The Thorn
by Not Defined By Boundries
Summary: The universe never seems to be simple when it concerns Rose Tyler. She is no longer the naive human she once was, now both joy and loss tail her like eager shadows. Travelling under the alias 'The Thorn', she must put on The Doctor's old shoes and learns that on the journey to find lost love, she must also find herself along the way. Post Journey's End, eventual reunion!fic.
1. Cherry Blossoms

**Disclaimer: I do not own, nor ever will I own Doctor Who. That belongs to the BBC and Steven Moffat, the rascally devil. **

**A/N: I got inspiration for this story from the song Paint by The Paper Kites. If you want to listen to the song while reading this chapter, I think it really adds an extra dimension to the story.**

"_You know when I was a kid, the thing that made me the saddest was that you couldn't eat cherry blossoms." _

_The Doctor smiled, "Sure you could, they just wouldn't taste any good."_

"_Ha, you're a poet"_

_The Doctor laughed and Rose grinned. He had extended the TARDIS airfield so they were sitting on the edge of the door just talking, legs dangling out into space. Rose stared into the thick bluish-black of the universe, pinpricked with starlight, feeling so light and weightless, her hair drifting up around her face._

_The Doctor's face suddenly lit up. Old eyes looked young again. _

"_I know exactly where we should go next" He jumped up from the edge of the TARDIS and half skipped towards the console. Rose stood up and closed the door._

"_Ataali 7, planet in the Ritornellous system." He proceeded to flick some random knobs and levers. "Humans colonised it ages ago, after the last species that inhabited it wiped themselves out in the great hat war. Haven't been there for years, the Prime-Minister still owes me a game of chess boxing… anyway, they're famous for their edible cherry blossoms, of course they're not actually cherry blossoms, they're Ataalian Miskrits, but tomato_, tomato_…" He pulled another lever._

"_The Prime Minister owes you a game of ch… oh never mind" Rose laughed and leaned back to sit on the captain's chair. After a few seconds she spoke again._

"_Do they taste good, the blossoms"?_

"_Never tried them, I didn't stay on the planet long enough. Had to make a quick get away. Apparently telling the King's sister she's stupid counts as a federal offence" He shrugged. "Humans and your silly traditions." He pulled another leaver and the TARDIS started shaking. When it stopped, the Doctor didn't wait a second. He ran out of the TARDIS door with his brown trench coat over his arm, Rose following in tow. _

"_Allons-y Rose Tyler!"_

_Ataali 7 was beautiful. It was dusted with a light veil of snow, like icing sugar. Cherry blossom trees, with their pastel pink flowers, dotted the landscape._

_It was quiet. So quiet you could almost hear a hum, the planet turning, travelling through space. The sky was grey but a white sun shone through the clouds. Snowflakes slid down their fluffy white noses, melting halfway across their lips. Raindrops the size of pearls hung frozen on tree limbs like tiny crystals. _

_Rose took in a deep breath. The air was so cold; it felt like the ice had travelled to her lungs._

"_Doctor, if its so cold, how come the blossoms are still flowering" she asked as she clung to his side. The Doctor, it seemed, was impervious to the cold._

"_Genetic Engineering, the whole planet's in recession. Their only income is these little flowers, can't afford to waste a whole season."_

_Rose walked up to a nearby tree and plucked two blossoms from its branches. She passed one to the Doctor and held the other tentatively to her lips while the Doctor scanned his with the sonic screwdriver._

"_No trace of toxins or anything not good, it's all organic material. A bit cold, but that's it."_

_Rose slowly put the beautiful flower into her mouth. She gagged. It tasted like sour spinach. She almost choked on the bad taste. The Doctor just stared at her._

"_Oh, come on. It can't be that bad" he said while putting his own in his mouth. He immediately spat it out. He gagged a little and tried to wipe the taste off his tongue with his hands. Rose just couldn't hold in her laughter and was soon rolling around in the snow, making an impression of this memory in fine ice crystals. The Doctor joined in. When their laughter died down he grabbed Rose's hand and squeezed it. He was still grinning._

"_One day, Dame Rose of Powell Estate, I promise, I will find you a cherry blossom that tastes like the food of the gods."_

* * *

It was times like those that she held onto. When everything else just seemed dark and bleak, she held onto those shining days. She put the Doctors hand in hers. His skin wrapped around his bones and veins lined his body like tiny blue creepers. He was sleeping. Wrinkles covered his ancient face, showing his age too clearly. The very human Doctor slowly opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to register that Rose was beside him. Every movement, every blink, every shuffle, every reaching out of his hand, was slower than it once was, but he smiled his familiar smile and squeezed her hand gently.

"Hello Rose Tyler." He cupped her face in a withered palm.

"You know that's not my…"

"I know." He interrupted her.

"Please don't call me that." She snapped.

"You're right, I'm…I'm sorry."

She sighed. "No… no, it's okay, that was harsh. I can…" She took a deep breath. "I can be Rose for today."

"Alright…" The Doctor whispered softly from dry lips with a sad smile.

They sat in compatible silence for a time, The Doctor found it hard to say how long. Time seemed to lose meaning within the confines of this room's grey walls. There were no ticking clocks to count it, what remained was only the steady beep and whir the machines that held him just on the edge of this universe. It'd been 47 seconds Rose acknowledged.

"You know," joked The Doctor, voice weary but light, "I can honestly say didn't really see this coming…" His words died off slowly. She just bowed her head.

"You shouldn't be alone," remarked the Doctor suddenly. Rose looked up at him to face him, still not speaking.

"I don't want you to be alone, because although you'll tell yourself alone is easier, it's never worth it, and that's coming from me. We all need someone in the end." The Doctor coughed. "I have you."

Rose remained unresponsive. The Doctor's voice became slower. He could feel death coming closer. It was neither a bright light nor a grim shadow. Death felt like a curtain of warm water flowing down the surface of cold, bare skin. It was the horizon swallowing the raging fun of a sun. Calming the hot passion of the sky. He didn't want to die, but it was time.

"I think I'm going now?" It was half a question.

The Doctor reached out to his Rose and seized her face in his hands, lined with the tracks of silent tears. "I love you so much Rose. If those _greedy_ fingers of time take away everything, even if you remember nothing else, you must remember this. Take this knowledge wherever you go, because it's so, _so _important. It is the most important thing in the entirety of every universe there is. You. Are. Loved."

And with those words his let go and Rose watched as the flickering lights of wonder left her loves eyes.

"I love you too," she whispered.

* * *

_Approximately Sixty Year Before: _

It was a Saturday morning, but Torchwood had called at stranger hours. It was probably just admin stuff, but her commander had a serious problem with knowing when it was sensible to call employees. 6am on a weekend for example was not Rose's "prime time", whether it came down to her level of physical dishevelment, or just general drowsiness. But Rose didn't want to miss anything, just in case it _was _something important. She loathed thinking what would happen if she called in sick and there was an alien invasion. She'd miss out on all the fun.

She tapped an impatient rhythm on the worn leather of the steering wheel. It was an old car; she'd bought it second-hand. Of course Pete had more than enough money to buy her a proper vehicle; one that would start smoothly and without the tired cough of being driven one too many times. Without the chipping paint around the edges of the driver's door. But Rose refused every time he offered. This car was the one thing she'd payed for, truly _earned_, herself. So she didn't mind the peeling leather, or the rusty door handles, because it was hers and hers alone.

The traffic was stagnant. Rose looked down at the passenger seat beside her. A little gift-wrapped package lay nestled in-between an abandoned cardigan and the Torchwood issue backpack every employee was expected to have on them at all times. It was The Doctor's 'birthday' in a week. He had never celebrated birthdays before, last year and the year before he just seemed to get around it, but this year Jackie had practically forced the party hat onto his head. Rose only half sympathised.

And as she sluggishly inched her wreck of a car forward, Rose deemed this life to be pretty good one. She had a beautiful home, courtesy of Pete, a steady job, and a wonderful sort-of-boyfriend. It's what she'd always dreamed of as a little girl, living in Powell Estate. It was the life she'd created for her little wooden dolls, and the happy endings she'd dreamed of when playing pretend with Mickey. Of course Rose missed the stars. The little pinpoints of light that held so much wonder and so many adventures. She could tell The Doctor did too. It was obvious to anyone who knew him well. On lazy Sundays he'd itch for some sort of action, some release, and so he got himself into some sort of trouble more than she supposed was proper. Despite this he was getting better at being human everyday.

They'd been living in this Universe for just a little over three years now. Rose was slowly moving up the ranks of Torchwood. Through her own merit she might add. Pete wouldn't have given her any sort of special privilege even if she'd asked.

In her own little private moments, Rose took the time to dream that one of these days The Doctor would finally ask her to marry him. Rose hoped it wasn't too presumptuous of her. Not that those doubts stopped her from dropping little hints. And she _had_ been fairly obvious about it. But with The Doctor, who knew whether anything would get through that thick skull of his. It was one of Rose's favourite pastimes to dream of the future. They would have a small wedding if she could manage to rein Jackie in, only people they actually knew and liked. Once Rose and The Doctor together had finally managed to save up enough money, they would buy a small house in the countryside. Rose would swap in Torchwood for an ordinary job and be a proper grown-up for once. They would have a daughter, and they would name her Frieda, and Rose would plant her a garden of sunflowers to play in. Rose shook her head. The traffic was starting to move again, and there was plenty of time for the future when she actually arrived there.

Her phone made a noise from her bag. She reached through the canvas folds and turned her head to look at the message. It was a text from Pete, telling her to buy more milk on the way home. Rose rolled her eyes. The man drank the stuff by the galleon. And that's where it happened. Years later they told her it was a motorcyclist drugged up on Ice. He'd driven straight through a tricky intersection and into the side of the car that Rose had been occupying. They said he'd died on impact. They both had.

Tyres screeching. Glass Breaking. Metal Bending. A horrible fire, burning her every cell. It was excruciating and it dug its way into her mind. Fire licking at her senses, a sickening yellow.

And then, through her stifled red screams, she could see it all. All that was, is, and could ever be. Tender timelines were invading her already fragile vision, whispering unintelligible sounds in her ears. Rose wanted to run from it. To run so very far away, but she couldn't fight her own mind. She wanted instinctually to somehow scrape it clean from her head. With a knife, with anything, anything that would make the baffling mess disappear.

Dually however, there was something awfully, frighteningly hollow about it all. A darkness in the back of her mind that just felt wrong, so vast, so open and blank; the agony of loneliness.

Then the pain stopped. The fire just went out, like it was never there to begin with. Oh but the feeling in her head stayed the same. Suddenly the world looked so easy. She saw the equation in the bird's flight, the poetry in the spin of a bike's wheel. She could hear the music of the universe, the harmonies of the planets. She could see how everyone was connected. They were all instruments in an orchestra, part of something bigger, something she had never before hoped to comprehend. But she didn't want to see it. It terrified her. This was all so disorienting. Rose pressed her palms hard against her temples and tightly scrunched up her eyes, taking in deep breaths.

After Rose calmed down somewhat, she managed to climb out of her pretzel of a car. Confused onlookers watched her stumble away uneasily, but did nothing to stop her. _The Bystander Effect… _something whispered in the back of her mind, but she simply ignored it in favour of making sure she was still in one piece and had all limbs accounted for.

Despite the fact that Rose's vision maintained it's stubborn blurriness, the Torchwood officer in her kicked in and she managed to make it all the way to the ladies room of a nearby café before being sick in a waste bin.

As her vision cleared up, Rose looked down at her hands. They were so dirty. She walked as steadily as she could, over to the single cracked china washbasin. There were no mirrors in the bathroom. Nothing to help her asses he overall wellbeing.

Even as Rose ran her hands under clean water, the dirt wasn't coming off. She squeezed on more soap from the dispenser, but no matter what she did, the dirt wouldn't budge. That was when she noticed it didn't just cover her hands, but her arms and legs as well. She was properly scared now. She shut her eyes tightly and scrunched them up again until her face hurt. Maybe this was the shock catching up with her. _She would need a need a new car_… the stray thought formed as she tried to breathe deeply and gain some semblance of focus.

Rose walked out of the bathroom. With the current state of her clothes, she hoped she didn't frighten any of the shop's customers.

"Can if I borrow a mirror or something?" She asked the lady at the counter. That wasn't nice, why was she being rude? This was just a stranger; she didn't need to be rude. "Please." Rose added in quickly. The girl didn't look up, focused on her phone, and simply slid a small mirror across from the other side of the table. "Right, thanks." Rose said quickly before rushing back to the bathroom.

She held the worn, old mirror up to her face to check for damages but quickly dropped it. It shattered into pieces on the floor and waves of glass dust dispersed across the bathroom tile. Her hands clasped her mouth to muffle any screams. Her heart skidded to halt in her chest. There was a stranger in the mirror.

Rose crawled over to the collection of broken mirror pieces before picking up the largest shard. In her haste she sliced open her palm and droplets of scarlet blood dribbled down her forearm, but she ignored the pain. She held the piece of mirror up to her face again. The woman staring back at her was not Rose Tyler.

The woman had an exotic air around her. She had short but dead straight black hair, which pooled at her shoulders like satin, and dark skin the colour dead autumn leaves. Her eyes were large and black, reminding her vaguely of ink in a bottle cap. Her chin was narrow, but her nose took surprising prominence on her face. This couldn't be her, but when Rose blinked, the woman blinked and when she brought her injured hand up to the mirror, scarlet blood dripped from the woman's as well. However before her eyes golden dust collected around the wound, along with a gentle prickling feeling. When the dust disappeared, the gash was gone.

It wasn't possible and that was the truth. She was gold star human and that wasn't something she wanted to change, but her mind started entertaining impossible ideas. Creeping black vines of speculation dug roots in the back of her brain and the universe begin to whisper dangerous thoughts in her ear.

Taking staggered breaths, Rose slowly placed her hand across her chest before ripping it away like she'd been burnt. No…no, this was impossible, entirely improbable. _"But it's the truth…" _a traitorous voice whispered in the recesses of her mind. And it was right. She couldn't forget what she had felt there. In the moment when she had placed her palm to her chest.

A double heart beat.

This time Rose couldn't completely muffle the screams.

This was all wrong. It was all backwards. She couldn't go home to her Doctor, not like this, not with two hearts beating is her chest. Rose started hyperventilating. It would be a constant reminder of the life they could have had. Her kind, gorgeous, and so very human Doctor. What could she tell him?

"_Hello Darling, I was in a car crash today and I regenerated, apparently I'm a Time Lord. Oh, and now we can't spend the rest of our lives with each other anymore. Woops."_

The very idea was laughable, but Rose didn't feel like laughing. Those dark thoughts started to speak to her again. _Wasn't it better letting him think that she was dead?_ Maybe he could move on with his life, be loved again by someone who could give him that beautiful life. The life, after nine hundred years of pain and loss and suffering, there was no question he deserved. In the back of her head she knew she couldn't do that to him, but she needed escape all of this. She couldn't deal with it. Rose was still so young and had no idea what to do. The Doctor would know. He always knew about these kinds of things, but she couldn't go back to him like this. The Doctor thought she was brave. But she wasn't brave enough for this. Rose was so scared.

Oh and didn't Fate take too much pleasure in irony. Now she had somewhat of a clue to how the original Doctor felt. Rose's heart, be that hearts ached, for her Doctor and herself. She loved him so much, too much, more than could be allowed because she couldn't stay. She couldn't face it all. She couldn't watch him wither and die before her eyes. It would destroy her. It would eat away at her day by day she knew. Slowly nibble at her sanity until nothing but the hollow rattle of empty bones remained. Rose Tyler the shell. And death was better than that. Most things in the universe were better than that.

Then she remembered the TARDIS; the new, yet familiar TARDIS, grown from a piece of coral. It was sitting in the back shed, waiting for another adventure with her and her human Doctor, but now it would be her escape.

She ran out of the café and all the way home, though she was finding getting used to her new body quite awkward. She could feel it start to get tired but Rose just kept on running and by the time she reached the Tyler Mansion she was gasping for breath and drenched in a cloak of sweat. She silently let herself in through the back gates that the Tylers' used mostly for deliveries and functions

and opened the door to the shed with the spare key buried in the flowerbed. Rose had to dig around a bit. Dirt burrowed under her fingernails.

And there she was. TARDIS 2.0, a blue police box as a salute to her mother. Rose stroked the blue wood and let herself inside, her original TARDIS key working for this one as well. The human doctor had a while ago taught Rose how to fly her and now she was aching to get away from this world; to sprint forever into the sky and away from all the pain, away from a confrontation with the Doctor. Of course, she would be back to see him in the morning. But for Rose, the morning was so very far away.

Time to start running.


	2. Essa

**Disclaimer: I am terribly disappointed about the whole situation, but apparently I don't own Doctor Who. I know, it's scandalous. Apparently it belongs to the BBC and Steven Moffat. Who knew?**

Rose is walking through a marketplace on the planet Trietia when she realises that she's become that woman, the alien woman that her mother had warned her about all those years ago, the one that has left everything and everyone else behind to travel the universe. Her mother was right. She isn't Rose Tyler anymore, not really. She doesn't look like her, sound like her, or even act like her. She doesn't call herself Rose anymore either. The power of a name and all that. Now she's the Thorn, pretty but painful. The Defender Of The Universe, or The Shadow Woman as the people from the military planet of Yoshkal know her. She has made quite a name for herself.

She's been alone for so long now, almost 600 years. As soon as she'd escaped the Earth, the Thorn had parked the TARDIS in the time vortex, spinning through the swirls of time itself. For the longest time she had dedicated her life to learning, the absorption of knowledge at almost a manic capacity. Her room in the TARDIS was practically the library. The Thorn memorized all the facts and figures she could fit inside her Time Lord mind. If she couldn't stay with the human doctor then she wouldn't waste her time. This universe needed a protector, someone to take on the job of her original Doctor, someone to look out for the innocent. The Thorn fit the bill perfectly.

She found that science and maths interested her far more greatly now. They were the mechanics of the universe, how could she not find them fascinating? In the back of her mind though, she knew. All the knowledge or all the adventures in the universe could not chase away her loneliness or longing for the Doctor. But she couldn't go back and face him. Not yet.

She continues to walk through the crowds of Trietia and admire the many stalls of the market place. She feels as if she understands the Doctor better now. No matter how far she's travelled she can't help but be amazed at the smallest things, ordinary people going about their ordinary lives but being utterly extraordinary in the process. That's when she spots something in the distance, the crowd is parting; something is pushing its way through.

Then the screaming starts.

The Thorn starts running towards the noise and shouting then she sees it, a giant beast, around 8 feet tall. It looks a bit like a cross between a sloth, a spider, and the Hulk. It has shaggy brown fur and great green eyes. Its eight legs stumble awkwardly through the crowd, but its growls are vicious. What she is more worried about, however, is the being on its back. She's seen its kind before, a Lethonian from the planet Lollosh 6. They are generally a cruel race, with an affinity for guns and a massive superiority complex. Not to say that she hasn't met friendly Lethonians before, but this one looks particularly nasty. It's pushing Trietion citizens out of the way, not caring if they're injured on not. She bends down and picks up a large stone off the ground then throws it at the human-like Lethonians head.

"Hey blockhead," she yells "Down here!"

The Lethonian halts its beast and peers down at her, a sceptical look on its face.

"And who might you be, little creature, brave enough to stand in the way." It smirks, "I do love the brave ones, they put up such a fight."

The Thorns eyes turn cold. "So you're a Lethonian, yeah? I don't see any others around and your kind never go anywhere without the protection of others, so that must mean you're alone on this planet, but why? Why would you be by yourself without the protection of your tribe?" She says this all very fast. The Lethonians smirk drops and he scowls.

"I hardly think that's your busi…" the Thorn cut him off.

"Shhh, I'm talking. Must be exiled then, no other explanation. But what's with the giant sloth and crashing through the Trietion market place, cause I can tell you, this whole look is not working for you" states the Thorn while giving the Lethonian a disapproving look.

"It takes but one of my species to topple this pathetic planet and its simple minded people. This shall be the first of my private empire, now get out of my way little creature."

"You know what, I don't think I will. I'm finding this conversation awfully interesting, always one for a chat me. How 'bout this, why don't you leave these lovely people alone, huh? I can find you another planet where you can settle down peacefully. Think it over, cause I'm only asking once."

"Little creature, is that a threat?

"Yes"

"Well it's not very good is it? Since you seem to care about these…people…so much, I might just take one with me as insurance." The Lethonian has the huge beast pluck a woman from the crowd. She looks almost human except for the fact that she is blue and has pointed ears. And her scream is incredibly loud.

"No!" shouts the Thorn as the Lethonian and its beast retreated back into the forest that marked the edge of the Trietion market.

"Space Villains, always ones for melodrama" she mutters under her breath as she follows the Lethonian into the forest.

xxxxxxxx

She lost them a while ago, somewhere between that giant rock and the river, so she's searching with her very own sonic screwdriver, homage to the Doctor. She loves this, the adventure, the thrill of the chase, but it always puts a dampen on things when innocent people get dragged in.

At that exact moment, the Thorn's sonic screwdriver starts beeping madly, pointing to a rather large cave in the cliff face to her left. She's locked the screwdriver onto the Lethonians biological signature, so she can find it within these large woods. She follows the sound and it get louder the further she travels into the cave. After a while she has to turn it off for fear of getting caught. Now she's making her way blindly.

Suddenly she feels breathing on her neck. She spins around into the arms on the Lethonian.

"Now what are you doing here little creature" it grins sadistically at her. She looks around the cave and notices the blue girl tied to a chair in the corner of the room.

"Oh, you know, just exploring. It's a habit of mine that I just can't seem to shake. Nice tunnels by the way. Very dreary and boring, suit you perfectly."

The Lethonian lunges at her, and pins to the ground. Her sonic screwdriver rolls away from her.

"You're quickly getting on my nerves, little creature"

"Thanks, and I'd really love to talk longer, but could you move back a bit? Your breaths rank."

The Lethonian moves to hit her when suddenly he disappears. In front of her stands the blue girl, with the Thorn's sonic screwdriver in hand.

"Thanks" says the Thorn gruffly, getting up and dusting herself off.

"I don't understand," says the blue girl, "what just happened? It just disappeared."

"The alien got to this planet by teleport, I just retraced its steps so to speak and set the settings on my sonic screwdriver to reverse the teleport and send it back to its home planet. I was just about to complete the process when it knocked me to the ground. By the way, how did you know what to do?"

"I just figured point and press the button, what's the worst that could happen? My names Essa by the way. Essa Happel."

"The Thorn"

"The Thorn? Is that some kind of wrestling title or something?" The Thorn looks offended.

"What? No. That's my name so don't wear it our."

Essa put her hands up in protest. "Hey, whatever floats your boat."

"Oh Essa, I like you."

The Thorn and Essa walk out of the cave and start to make their way back to the main village.

"Do you do this kind of stuff all the time"

"Why you asking"

"Because that was the most excitement I've had in my whole entire life"

The Thorn pauses for a second. "Well, maybe you could have some more?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm asking you if you want to come with me. I mean you don't have to. What I do is dangerous, people sometimes get hurt." The Thorn said looking nervous.

"Are you kidding? Of course I'll come. Who would turn away such an adventure?"

"A surprising amount" says the Thorn now grinning from ear to ear. "Oh you'll love it, there are planets where the only colour they have is yellow, and others where everything is made from marshmallow. I was a friend with the princess of that one, ironically the thinnest person I've ever met. I told her, I said, if I lived in a giant world of marshmallow I'd probably be the size of an elephant, then she asked me what an elephant was."

"Wait," said Essa "You travel in space? As in real space? The stars and moons and planets kind?"

"Yeah, is that ok?"

Essa grins at the Thorn, "It's the best. You know you're slightly mad don't you?"

The Thorn smiles sadly. "Nah," she says, "Just pleasantly unbalanced."


	3. Barnacle On Your Boat

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, which is a real shame. Perhaps one day...well, a girl can dream.**

The first time Essa saw the inside of the TARDIS was, in the Thorn's opinion at least, hilarious. Her mouth dropped to the floor and her eyes widened dramatically. All in all, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"But, but, it's bigger on the inside." Essa said in wonder as she gazed up at the coral struts and the dome shaped interior. She walked dazed in the general direction of the console. All of a sudden the Thorn froze in her place.

"Oh my god… it really is. Thank you Essa so much for pointing that out, otherwise I would never have noticed. Wow… just, wow…"

"Shut up," mumbled Essa, blushing a deep purple (her skin was blue after all). The Thorn just grinned.

"This is my TARDIS. T. A. R. D. I. S. Stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. Basically, it's my time machine that can also travel in space, or my space machine that can also travel in time. Eh, Potato, _potaato."_

"What's a potato?"

"I tell you this is my spaceship, and you ask about potatoes, never mind that, where do you want to go? We've got all of time and space at our fingertips. Oh, I know, how about the crowning of the 24th Queen of Teragottle 6? Wait, no, you don't know who she is do you. How about the legendary dancing forests of Ripieno? No, I'm wanted for treason there. Wait, Ah, I got just the…" Essa cut her of.

"Can we go to your planet?"

"What? No, that's boring. My planet's boring, nothing fun ever happens there. Anyway, the people there don't think aliens exist, well except for special government agencies and nut jobs, so you'll stand out heaps. No, lets go somewhere different like the beginning of the universe, never been there before, or perhaps…" The Thorn continued talking, but Essa got the distinct feeling that she was avoiding something.

xxxxxx

They ended up going to the planet of the rainforests or Knella, as the locals knew it. The air was hot and heavy and both the Thorn and Essa wore tank tops and shorts, though the Thorn also wore a long coat from the 51st century which she insisted had inbuilt air-conditioning, which was specially fit to her biological signature.

They trekked up a large hill, or a relatively small mountain thought Essa, in an effort to reach what the Thorn described as _"a worthy point of reference to perceive the landscape."_

When they finally reached the top of the 'mountain' they could see all the way across the rainforest to the ocean, and it was indeed beautiful. The trees had a certain luminosity to them, which was visible even in daylight, and it made the whole forest have a soft sort of glow. The sea was the same colour red as the ones on her home planet Trietia, and the sky was the greenest green she had ever seen. Then of course, as it inevitably would, all hell broke loose.

Arrows flew through the air and spears punctured the ground, battle cries sounded from behind them and Essa ducked. The Thorn grabbed her hand and pulled her behind a rather large rock.

"What's going on? I thought you said this planet was safe?" Essa said panting.

"Well it generally is, but I _think_ we might have accidently trespassed on some sacred land, if the sound of battle cries is anything to go by," the Thorn said while looking sheepish. Essa groaned.

"Only you…"

xxxxxx

They ended up being captured by Knella's native population called the Atrofii. They were tiny people covered in orange fur and the Thorn was distinctly reminded of Oompa Loompas. Apparently she and Essa had broken the holy circle of Zou, a religious ground meant for quiet worship, and must therefore face a public execution. The Thorn wasn't at all worried about their fate until she had her sonic screwdriver confiscated by the chief Atrofii. In the meantime, she and Essa were tied back-to-back on chairs in the middle of an interrogation room.

"What brings you outsiders into our sacred grounds? What gives you the right to walk upon them with your dirty foreign feet?" Asked a particularly nasty looking Atrofii elder. The Thorn just gave him a friendly smile.

"Oh, we're terribly sorry for trespassing, we were just passing through, honestly. We didn't know of your sacred grounds and if we had, we'd have been sure to avoid them. If there's anything we can do to make this better just tell us, we'd be happy to help." The Thorn said, smile unwavering. The group of Atrofii all looked at each other.

"Perhaps," the Chief said stepping forward, looking slightly nervous, "there is something that you could do, for us to release you of your charges."

"Oh, please tell," said the Thorn leaning forward slightly, looking intrigued.

"There is a cave," the chief stated, "just outside our village. People go in but they don't come out. My daughter…" his voice cracked. "She's was taken. Perhaps if you could return her, we would be willing to consider your release."

"Don't worry, we'll get your daughter back safely."

Twenty minutes later the Thorn and Essa stood in front of the entrance to the cave. The Thorn couldn't help but notice a coincidence. Essa was the first to speak.

"Well isn't this always the way. A dark cave and probably some sort of creepy alien monster thrown in for luck."

The Thorn cracked a grin. "Well, at least we've had plenty of practice. That creepy alien monster doesn't know what it's got coming. Ready?"

"Ready."

Together they ran into the cave. It was dark and moss grew up and down the walls. The whole thing smelt of rain and mould.

"Well," said Essa nervously, "if I was monster, this would be top of my list for accommodation."

"Oh Essa, don't ever change."

"I'm not planning to."

They continued to walk for ages though what felt like miles of tunnels. The further they got into the cave the darker and damper it seemed to become. They passed a wide crack in the ground, which seemed to lead down miles down into Knella, and they had to take another route to avoid it. After they turned yet another corner they froze. There, lying on the ground was a miniscule Atrofii girl. Her orange fur was all ruffled and dirty and she looked close to death. The Thorn immediately recognized her as the chief's daughter and ran towards her. She started checking her over with her sonic screwdriver, which the chief had given back to her.

"She hasn't got much time left, something's been draining her life force." Suddenly a large growl sounded from the corner of the room and out jumped an enormous beast. The Thorn recognized it immediately. It was a Tondol from the Helian star system. It generally lived in caves and it had no sight, therefore it found its way around by smell. It gained energy by feeding off the life force of other creatures.

"Essa, you know how I've told you, you should never run when you're afraid?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, this is not one of those times. Run!"

With the little girl in her arms the Thorn and Essa ran as fast as they could to the entrance of the cave. The Thorns heart dropped when they reached the huge crack in the ground. They were trapped. The sound of the beast was coming closer and soon it would be upon them. And then they saw it, running at full speed towards them, its short brown fur and small black eyes that didn't see. The Thorn suddenly had an idea. She threw her 51st century jacket in the crack in the ground and launched herself, the girl and Essa out of the way. The Tondol just kept running, relying on its sense of smell. It followed the Thorns jacket. Straight into the abyss.

Everyone took a deep sigh of relief.

"Come on," said the Thorn, "we have to get the chief's daughter out of here."

xxxxx

A while later, back on the TARDIS, Essa and the Thorn sat lounging round by the console. The Thorn was just happy the little girl was okay. They had finally made it out of the caves in time for her be given back to the chief and to get medical attention from the village's healer. She felt bad that the Toldol beast had to die, but otherwise more people would just end up getting hurt.

Essa, however was just marvelling at the excitement of the day.

"I'm never going stop travelling with you, I promise you, I'm here to stay. They'll be no getting rid of me. I'll be like a barnacle on your boat, or in this case TARDIS I guess," Essa grinned so widely. The Thorn's heart started to ache. She remembered the times when it was like that with her and the Doctor; she thought nothing would ever split them apart.

"Don't say that."

"What?" asked Essa, "Why?"

"Because you shouldn't make promises you can't keep."


	4. Reunion

**Disclaimer: Do you think the BBC would notice if I snuck into their headquarters and stole the rights to Doctor Who? Alas, I can't right now anyway, I'm busy writing fanfiction.**

It had been a while since Essa left. Met a handsome time-agent and ran away (not this universe's Jack Harkness, she checked). Little remnants of her three years with the Thorn were however left around the TARDIS. A toothbrush, a cardigan, a photo of her when she was small. The Thorn had gathered them all, put them in her old bedroom and deadlocked the door. She remembered what the Doctor's old companion Sarah-Jane had said all those years ago.

"_Some things are worth getting your heart broken for."_

It was then that she realised Sarah-Jane wasn't just talking about Rose; she was talking about the Doctor as well. Both of them had their hearts broken, for the Doctor, perhaps both at once. Now the Thorn felt the despair of losing a companion, especially since Essa chose to leave of her free will. Though at least she was happy and, as the Thorn suspected, possibly married. It was indeed worth taking Essa along with her. She had needed a friend and that was what she had gained, for however short a time, from the perspective of a Time Lord at least.

The loneliness was crushing. How had the Doctor survived losing so many friends? The Thorn had long since understood the Doctor had known far more companions than she had realised.

"_Some things are worth getting your heart broken for."_

She was running out of excuses. Sooner or later she would have to face her human Doctor. What if one day she was killed and she had never gone back to see him? He would live the rest of his life wondering if something had happened to her or if she had just abandoned him, and that was the worst kind of worry. She should just let him go, but she understood the pain of loss. She'd been in that place before. Then on a whim, the Thorn did something she never thought she could summon the courage to do.

She piloted the TARDIS home.

xxxxxxxx

There she stood in front of the main door to the Tyler mansion. It was once her home. She wondered whether or not she should knock, or if she could even find the nerve. This was, however, something that had to be done. She knocked three times on the solid wooden door.

"I'm coming!" she heard a familiar voice shout from inside, and the clatter of heals running in her direction. Jackie Tyler stood before her. The Thorn felt a lump form in her throat. The Thorn just stared

"Hey," Jackie looked at her expectantly, "Well, who are you then?"

The Thorn felt like crying. Her mother didn't recognise her. She knew she wouldn't, but that didn't mean it didn't sting. Now she was just another face in the crowd.

"Oh, um… I'm, uh, Lucy… Smith, I'm from Torchwood. I'm, uh, here to talk to the Doctor…" The Thorn spluttered. Normally she was such a good actor, but today she was all over the place. Jackie frowned at her disapprovingly.

"Ok, fine, come in then, but I'm sick of you people in my house. If you want to talk to Pete or the Doctor, you can do it when they're at work, honestly. Come on, don't just stand and gawk, he's this way." The Thorn frowned. Why hadn't Jackie mentioned Rose as well? She was sure she had parked the TARDIS only the morning after she left.

The Thorn followed Jackie to the corner of the house where what used to be her and the Doctor's room was located. Jackie knocked on the door and the Thorn tried to prepare herself. She wasn't worried about the Doctor realising she was a Time Lord straight away. She had placed a low-level perception filter on her person that stopped people from thinking about her species in general.

Then the door opened and there he stood. Hair all sticky-uppy like she remembered it, and he was standing in his blue suit looking at them questioningly.

"Hi Jackie, who's this?" He asked, all the while smiling at them.

"Don't you know 'er? Says she's from Torchwood."

"You new then?" he asks kindly, looking directly at the Thorn.

"Uh, yeah"

"Come on then, if you could just close the door on the way in that would be great." The Thorn did as he asked. He sat down on a swivel chair, beside a rather cluttered desk. The Thorn didn't understand. The whole room, the set up, was different than she remembered it. The Doctor wouldn't change a whole room's design in just a day, would he? What was happening?

"So, what's with the perception filter?" The Doctor asked her expectantly. The Thorn's eyes widened.

"Um, what?"

"Oh come on, I've been around the universe a couple of times, _weeell_, not this particular one, but anyway, I know a perception filter when I feel one. So what you got, bad acne or something? A birthmark you don't want people to notice?"

"W-w-what?" The Thorn couldn't seem to get any words out. All of this, her old home, her mother, the sight of the man she loved, had shaken her completely.

"Or perhaps," he continued, ignoring her completely, "you're not from Torchwood at all. I know everyone at my station and new recruits don't come in until September. So who are you really?"

The Thorn couldn't handle it anymore, she broke into sobs.

xxxxxx

The Doctor looked at the girl intensely. There was something strange about her, of that he was sure. Her crying, it spoke of someone who had suffered pain and unimaginable loss. Only he _could_ imagine it. He had felt the same thing so many times before, the last being when he had lost Rose three years ago.

He thought things had been going well between them. It had taken awhile but Rose had eventually gotten used to him. The Doctor, but without the regenerations, able to grow old alongside her. But then she had disappeared along with the TARDIS. At first he thought that maybe she'd been kidnapped, as a way of getting to him. But as the years went on he started to doubt it. What if she had just gotten tired of him, and of their domestic (by comparison to the original Doctor's) lifestyle? It had broken his one heart. So he sympathised with the girl in front of him.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm so, _so_ sorry," She managed to blurt out through her tears. The Doctor went over to her and awkwardly tried to comfort her.

"Hey, what are sorry for? "

"For leaving. You see, I-I think I've worked it out. I meant to come back the morning after, but I've think gone too far. I shouldn't have run, but I was just scared."

"What?" The Doctor looked at her quizzically.

"Remember when we first met? Plastic Autons were taking over the shop where I worked, Henricks it was, and you saved my life. You took my hand in yours and you said one word, just one, Run."

The Doctor's eyes widened.

"Rose?"

xxxxxxx

The Thorn looked up at him sadly.

"I don't go by that name anymore, cause I'm not Rose anymore. She died when I regenerated into this." She said, gesturing to her body.

"What? I don't understand. How can you be her? You regenerated? What?" The Doctor looked so confused, but there was sadness in his eyes that came along with it.

"I was in a car crash. I was stupid and looked away from the road to answer a text. I must have crashed, cause the next thing I know, I'm on fire; every single cell in my body's in pain. And my mind, oh, I could suddenly everything. All of time was stretched out in front of me, and it was so lonely."

"But how? I don't…" Then realisation dawned on his face. "Bad Wolf" he muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"The Time Lords, they evolved over a long period of time from low exposure to the time vortex, but you, you had it _all_ there in your head, and it changed you. At the game station, at the time you didn't remember, but now… Rose, or whatever you call yourself, try to think back to what happened after I sent you away at the game station."

The Thorn looked back into her memories, to that night when the Doctor regenerated, then she saw it. All that golden light. She was the Bad Wolf. She destroyed the Daleks. And Jack… _oh Jack_.

"Oh my god…" the Thorn didn't know what else to say.

"Oh Rose, I'm so sorry," the Doctor took her into his arms and she leaned into his embrace.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." He just held her tighter.

"I just can't believe it. The universe was almost starting to be kind to us again, then this…" He paused. "So...when will you be off again?" He stood up and looked at his feet, he slowly walked away from her."

"Pardon?" asked the Thorn, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"I just meant, well... you might not want to stay here with me anymore, and that's fine," he said quickly. "I just wanted to give you this before you left..." He leant down and kissed her.

In that moment, the Thorn knew she should leave. That was the plan, to get away from all of this and let him move on with his life, to fall in love again, with someone who could give him that forever that she'd promised. But sometimes when you love someone, you can't bring yourself to let them go. Some things are worth getting your hearts broken for.

**A/N: Hello everyone. I just wanted to ask if you could please leave a review in the little review box thingy down below. It really helps and suggestions or of any kind or constructive criticism are welcomed.**


	5. Mother

**Disclaimer: I'm Australian, I'm not sure they would let me near Doctor Who with a ten-foot poll. Anyway, I don't think I would be able to stop myself from making the next companion have a really Bogan Australian accent. It would just be too hilarious.**

They had yet to tell Jackie the true identity of 'Lucy Smith'. The Thorn didn't think she could handle it. Rose Tyler had died in the car crash and the Thorn was created instead. She wasn't the same person. She was over 600 years old, and she couldn't be a daughter to Jackie. However, every time she looked into her once mother's eyes, the Thorn could feel a pull on her hearts, an ancient longing to be Rose Tyler again, to have Rose Tyler's loves and fears and little quirks. She just wanted to be an ordinary human, to have an ordinary little life and not carry the weight of ten million worlds on her shoulders. But the Thorn wasn't human. She was a Time Lord. Another heart lay in her chest. Double the beat, ten thousand times the responsibility.

After reuniting with her human Doctor, the Thorn couldn't bring herself to leave. She knew it would be the better thing to do; the selfless act. She should be strong, strong like both her Doctors, but she just didn't have the courage. Anyway, she had already created roots here again. 'Lucy Smith' had joined Torchwood for real, rented a flat 15 minutes away from the Tyler mansion and gotten back together with the human Doctor. She also looked healthier than she did before. Her dark cheeks were no longer gaunt and her long black hair had gained a gloss. She had become less dangerously thin than she was during her 600 years travelling. Now she sat awkwardly on one of the light white couches in the main living room of the Tyler mansion. Today was the day they would tell Jackie Tyler about 'Lucy Smith's' relationship with the Doctor.

"Can I get you a cuppa tea?" Jackie seemed to appear right behind the Thorn. It made her jump; she felt particularly on edge.

"No thanks, that's alright, I've got a drink bottle in my pack…" The Thorn patted her Torchwood issue bag, which stuck out between her feet. Jackie sat down on the sofa across from the Thorn. An awkward silence filled the room and the familiar buzzing sound of quiet rang in the Thorn's ears.

"The Doctor's just round in his office. Shouldn't be too long, but knowing that man…" Jackie said, fidgeting with the hem of her old jean jacket. An awkward silence filled the air again, and the Thorn searched her brain for something to fill it, something to say to the woman who was once her mother. Luckily the Doctor walked into the room.

"Hello_,_ you two getting acquainted? Nice word _acquainted,_ but anyway, Jackie this is uh… Lucy, and Lucy this is Jackie." He had a giant grin on his face. It seemed as if, for the Doctor, Christmas had come early with double the presents.

"Hi," the Thorn stood up to shake hands with Jackie, "yeah, I've seen you around, but I don't think we've ever been properly introduced." They shook hands and sat down again.

"So, Lucy and I have been together, as in a couple, for a few months now and we thought we should let you know." Jackie looked like a deer caught in the headlights and the Thorn just wanted to hit the bloody man sitting next to her. They had discussed this. They were going to ease Jackie into the idea of it. The whole situation was weird anyway. The Doctor lived with the mother of his 'sort of girlfriend' in a giant mansion with the rest of his 'sort of girlfriend's' family and now he had to tell that mother that he had gone and gotten a new 'girlfriend' while his 'sort of girlfriend' was still missing. And the Doctor had gone and blurted it all out at the first chance he got. She wouldn't blame Jackie if she slapped him into another universe right now.

"Oh, um… that's, uh… good, for you," The Thorn just sat looking at her feet while Jackie leaned in to talk quietly to the Doctor. "What does this mean about Rose? I thought you were in love or something, or at least that's how she felt about you. Does this mean you've given up on her, because I haven't. No matter what anyone says I know she's still out there. I know she wouldn't of just up and left without any word. It's not like her. There has to be a reason for what happened, I can just feel it, I'm her mother."

"I…" The Doctor stood up and walked towards the door, "I…think I should leave you two to talk. Maybe get to know one another." The Doctor gave the Thorn a meaningful look. She just shook her head. She knew the Doctor wanted her to tell Jackie the truth but it just wasn't possible. For a few minutes the Thorn and Jackie Tyler just sat on the couch, keeping to themselves. Then Jackie spoke.

"The Doctor and my daughter used to be in love you know?" Jackie stared intensely at the Thorn. "They travelled the stars together, I know it seems unbelievable but... anyway, they were perfect for one another." Jackie wiped away a tear. "So you and the Doctor can fall in love, and get married and grow old together, even have children, and that's fine... but you should know that you would never be like Rose. To his eyes, you would just be a shadow of what he could have had. Before you go any further with the Doctor, you have to understand that and accept it, because the Doctor doesn't deserve to get his heart broken again." Jackie turned away from 'Lucy Smith' and looked at her hands.

Years later, the Thorn still couldn't explain why she next said what she did. She had planned the conversation out after all. She and the Doctor were going to explain to Jackie their relationship then the Thorn would say she was urgently needed back at Torchwood and she would quickly hurry out of the Tyler Mansion. It was not to be.

"Well that's the problem isn't it Jackie Tyler."

Jackie just stared at the Thorn not quite understanding what she meant.

"Anything I choose to do will result in someone getting their heart broken. If I choose to leave, I will hurt the Doctor, and if I choose to stay... well, there is little chance of my hearts remaining intact."

"You said... hearts?"

"What? I'm not allowed to have two?"

"But didn't _he_...?"

"Yep, well so do I. I'm a big scary alien from outer space. Grrrrr..."

"So does that mean you're a, you know..." Jackie leaned in to whisper the next part_. "A Time Lord?"_

The Thorn just ignored her.

"Well I'm not technically from outer space, well depends how you classify where you're from. I mean, I was born in London, not this London though. A London all the way across in a different universe, lived there for 'round 20 years, but I've lived in my TARDIS for way longer than that. So maybe I'm actually a big scary alien from the TARDIS. Cause I am an alien, wasn't always though. Used to be human as they come, but then I met a man. Now he _was _an alien. And he and I travelled together for ages. And lots of good and bad stuff happened, I won't go into it, but I ended up absorbing the time vortex and _voila_, I ended up with loads of dormant Time Lord genes that didn't express themselves till I was fatally wounded. Anyway, more stuff happened and I was dumped in this universe with a human copy of the man I loved, but you know, fate's a bitch and I was in a car accident and regenerated. So I was selfish. I stole a TARDIS and I ran away. But now, well now I'm back and I'm sorry and I didn't plan to say all that, it just kinda slipped out."

"Oh my god... Rose?" Jackie Tyler ran up and hugged the Thorn tightly her eyes brimming with tears. The Thorn just patted her awkwardly on the back.

"No, no, I'm not Rose."

"But you _have _to be Rose, you have to be." Jackie pulled away and she was really crying now. There was a pleading in her eyes for the Thorn to be her lost daughter.

"Well, I used to be, but Rose died when she regenerated into me. I have the same memories and everything, I'm just... not the same person anymore. I mean, I'm 627 years old, something's bound to change anyway."

"But you're still my daughter."

The Thorn looked into Jackie's eyes and realised what she said was true. The Thorn pulled Jackie close to her and held her tightly.

"Yes. Yes, and you're still my mother."


	6. Under Her Skin

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. It's a tragedy that I'll never recover from. My psychologist says writing fanfiction might help.**

**P.S. I'm sorry I have not updated in a while. I was on a hiking trip with no Internet.**

He held her, when the memories became too much, and in turn, she held him. On those lonely nights where one of them was found staring into the space between reality they found and slowly healed one another. The Thorn grasped onto him, trying to find her way out of the dark. The deaths and the struggles became part of her personal history that she tried not to think about, and worked on with an eraser in her mind when it was reawakened by a sound or a smell. So soon the memories became so unintelligible in her kaleidoscope of a life that she could no longer tell what really happened or if there were things that she had removed or subsequently added.

She felt so old but the wrinkles and veins and greying hair were hidden under her skin, where they could show only through her eyes. But the Doctor slowly made her feel human again. Human passions, fears and ambitions seemed to make sense to her. They were the little things that made this life so wonderful. She was no longer Rose Tyler but that didn't matter. He wasn't a Time Lord either. They loved each other for who they were now, not who they were in the past.

She comforted him when he found it hard to come to terms with a life he thought he led. He was not truly the Doctor, but at the same time _oh he was_. He was young yet he remembered being old. He remembered having two hearts and living on Gallifrey and having brilliant companions. But that was a life that never was, a life that wasn't his. Whispering shadows of precious memories that he had never been a part of. So he found it hard. But the Thorn was there. Even after all those years, after his hair had started to speckle with grey and she changed again (a misty night, a mugger and a knife), she stayed.

Outside of the Tyler Mansion they were John and Lucy Smith, billionaire Pete Tyler's strange niece and her husband. At Torchwood they were the Doctor and his companion. He was a strategist and she was a hacker. They were the infamous duo; Torchwood's best. Behind closed doors they were, however, just the Doctor and the Thorn. They travelled the stars together, got in danger together and made love to one another. They were just themselves, two lost souls finding something in this universe to hold on to.

Eight years after the Thorns return, she became pregnant. She aborted it. It almost broke her and the Doctor apart. He was living the life he thought he could never have and wanted so desperately to have a proper family, but the Thorn simply couldn't. She refused to add a child into her convoluted life. There was not a parental bone in her body. Perhaps in a previous regeneration she could have been a good mother but not anymore. She would never want to subject an innocent child to the kind of lifestyle she led. It was dangerous and messy and people always ended up getting hurt. The Thorn remembered vividly their late night arguments. She threw things and he shouted, but they always ended with kisses and quiet apologies and promises of never again. Of course the promises were broken but they could never fight for long.

The Thorn and the Doctor tried not think about the issue of lifespan. But it was always in the back of their minds. Soon the Doctor would end up looking like he could be the Thorn's father, then grandfather. What would happen after that was never spoken of. For now however, she would enjoy what she had. She could never leave. It was like she was buried too deeply in sand. The Thorn knew that soon the waves would come and wash over her head, but their was no way she could escape, she didn't even want to.

Now, she and the Doctor lay in their bed. His toes curled around her feet and she huddled up next to him.

"You know, I've been thinking about something." The Doctor whispered in her ear.

"Tell me..."

"Well, I never did find you that perfect cherry blossom..."

The Thorn thought of her human Doctor. The lazy Sunday afternoons they spent in the park. When he would help Tony with his maths homework. When they would fight off alien invasions with Torchwood. Trips to the stars. Times when they would just sit and talk. Moments when they didn't need to say anything at all.

"It doesn't matter." She replied. "All this is better."


	7. Sunday

I am Sarah Matheson. I am 20 years old and living in a tiny town called Sunday. Apparently, according to my mother, when you start a diary it is necessary to introduce yourself, in case one day you become famous and you decide to publish it as your memoires. I don't see much point since I maintain the opinion that only I should read this and I already know who I am, however I'm not really a guru when it comes to diary writing. I wouldn't even be doing this if not for the fact that there is nothing much else to do in Sunday. This town seems to be stuck in a state of perpetual dullness. The streets are clean and the people are moderately friendly but when the world moved on from the 50's to the 60's, then to the 70's and on until today's date of December 5th 2013, well, the world seems to have left Sunday behind. My mother also said I needed to include the date.

XXXXX

_December 6__th__ 2013_

I lie, I lie. Sometimes Sunday _is _interesting, if just a tad. Today two new people moved in next door. I didn't see much of them but Mum says they're called John and Lucy Smith. Nice, proper names, Mum said. I should stop listening to her.

XXXXX

_December 8__th__ 2013_

Today is my Birthday, hooray! Mum took me out to dinner. I hate going out to dinner with her because she always sends the food back to the kitchen. There's always something wrong with it apparently. Mum's my only family though. She never mentions Dad at all. I've never met him. I just assume that the moment he saw my weird little baby face he scampered off with his tail between his legs, the bastard. Anyway, I saw John and Lucy Smith at the restaurant as well. According to Mum they're father and daughter. I'm not so sure. They seem a little too friendly with each other. Maybe they're husband and wife. I told this to Mum. She didn't seem to like it. She said John was way too old to be Lucy's husband. I remember rolling my eyes at her. We agreed to disagree.

XXXXX

_December 9__th__ 2013_

I hate that I don't have anyone else in Sunday to talk to apart from Mum. No one else can speak in sign language. They haven't bothered to learn. It frustrates me to no end. There are plenty of other people in their 20s here that I'm sure I'd get along fine with, but I refuse to have to write everything down if I have a conversation. Oh well, there's always the Internet.

XXXXX

_December 10__th__ 2013_

I ran into John Smith today. I mean, I literally ran into him. It wasn't my fault; he just seemed to appear out of nowhere. I do kinda feel sorry for making him drop all his things though. I could tell he was saying something to me, I'm not sure what though. I handed him my card. I have these business card things that I hand out to new people I meet to let them know I'm deaf. It was Mum's idea, but I got to choose what I put on the cards. They say:

_Although I do find it hilarious watching you move your mouth up and down, I should probably let you know that my ears suck at hearing and they're just there for ornamentation._

I can't believe she let me put that on the cards. I suppose she was feeling kinda sorry for me while she was making them. I had just broken my leg falling down the stairs. Sometimes I miss the cast. It was fun to draw on.

When I handed the man my card I could tell he laughed. Then he told me he thought they were cool. _In sign language! _We ended up talking for ages, just standing in the middle of the sidewalk. It was amazing talking to someone face to face that wasn't Mum.

XXXXX

_December 15__th__ 2013_

Yesterday I went to the movies. They were replaying _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. I love the books, and I've watched the movies enough with the subtitles on that I know what they're saying even when I see it in the cinemas. When I told John about my love for the series he disappeared into his and Lucy's bedroom (ha! They _are _married) and returned with a copy of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._ He told me it was signed by, and I quote 'good old JK herself', and when I opened the cover there her signature was in blue ink. He told me I could keep it. Afterwards he said something I couldn't quite make out because of the fact that he _said _it and didn't _sign_ it. Luckily however, due to my, I will admit, very poor lip reading skills, I think he said something to do with JK Rowling, and something like 'both dimensions'. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

XXXXX

_December 17__th__ 2013_

I went to the post office today to buy some stamps. Mum's always saying you can never have enough stamps. She collects them. Whenever she says this I always imagine our house covered in millions of stamps with the Queen's face on them. Mum's one of those people who still supports the monarchy even though it's outdated and we live in Australia. I think if I ever win the lotto, I'll buy a million queen stamps and stick them all over the house just to see what would happen. Anyway, I was surprised to find out that the person selling me the stamps was none other than Lucy Smith, John's wife. She was very pretty, which I'm not proud to say made me just a bit jealous. She had long ginger hair and one of those side fringes Mum's always trying to make me get. She had these wicked light green eyes and a few freckles on her nose. I've always wanted freckles. I think they're cute, but I'm one of those people who have none at all, just plain skin, if you don't count the mole on the side of my nose, and I try not to. I was ready to pull out my teeny tiny whiteboard that I use to communicate with people who can't speak sign language (I only use it when I have to) but she beat me to it and told me _in sign language_ (Marvellous, our numbers are growing) that it would be $60 for the box. She then explained that John had told her about me, and that she'd learned British sign language ages ago for her brother Tony who was mute, and then decided she wanted to learn Australian and American Sign Language too. We've decided to get morning tea together on Friday, which I'm really looking forward to. It'll be so great to talk to someone who's only a few years older than me.

XXXXX

_December 19__th__ 2013_

Lucy and I caught up for morning tea today. It was loads of fun, even though Lucy is a lot smarter than I am. That's not saying much though; I've never really been great academically. At least I have common sense, which I suppose is something. Anyway, Lucy was great and we got along fine. She offered to ask her manager at the post office to give me a job, but I told her that I make enough money selling my artwork online. She asked me if I have a boyfriend or a girlfriend but I told her no. She said they were overrated anyway. I asked her what it was like being married. Apparently she and John aren't actually married, though they might as well be. She said that most of the time John's fantastic, though sometimes it's difficult living with someone who thinks they're gods gift to the entire bloody universe. Sort of offhandedly she mentioned they're not staying in Sunday for very long and then gave me a sad sort of smile. Their 'mode of transportation' broke down just after they arrived and when they get it working again they're going to be leaving. I couldn't help but feel disappointed, though I offered to get Mum to drive them wherever they needed to go. Lucy said it was a bit more complicated than that.

XXXXX

_December 25__th__ 2013_

I hate Christmas.

XXXXX

_December 26__th__ 2013_

And Boxing Day.

XXXXX

_December 31__st__ 2013_

And New Years Eve.

XXXXX

_January 2__nd__ 2014_

All hail the New Year. Hoorah... (Note the sarcasm). I suppose I should explain why I hate all this. I mean, it might help to write it all down; rant a bit to blow off that Christmas steam.

Right, I cannot possibly describe how much I dislike holidays. The presents are always terrible. I mean really, _really _atrocious, even though I spend _hours_ meticulously choosing gifts for others. Last year every single thing that I got seemed to be some sort of toiletry. I swear, I must have obtained at least 12 different coloured soaps. It's like everyone's trying to subtly indicate that I smell or something. I know it's supposed to be the thought that counts but its like they're not even thinking at all. Though I suppose I'll have to begrudgingly give them points for effort. Besides it's hard to feel courteous when every time you walk into a room people start staring and whispering. Their greasy hands cupped to someone else's ear, mouths moving furiously like obnoxious mice trying to nibble the other person's earlobe off. Just because I'm deaf doesn't mean I'm stupid. I reckon it's all Mum's fault to begin with anyway. Every year, no matter what, she always invites the _whole town_ to our house for Christmas, Boxing Day and New Years Eve. With no one to talk to I'm without fail left sitting alone in some shady corner, furiously guarding the bowl of potato gems and playing Sudoku on my iPhone. This year I held a tiny shining sliver of hope that perhaps John and Lucy would come to the parties and I'd have someone to talk to, or at least someone to join me in multiplayer Sudoku, but neither of them showed. And that's why I hate the holidays.

XXXXX

_January 24__th__ 2014_

I haven't written anything in ages. I lost my diary. Mum found it though when she was vacuuming (it was under the couch). Lucy and I've gotten to be really good friends since I last wrote. It's great to finally have real, proper friends apart from my Mum. I remember telling her that I'd never left Sunday before, never seen the ocean, so she and John planned a road trip for the three of us up to the gold coast. I'm really excited, though I worry that I may feel like a bit of a third wheel. They're constantly talking about stuff that I don't understand, though for politeness sake, they do talk about it in sign language. I remember the first time I showed Lucy and John the bushland that surrounded Sunday. We ran into a Kangaroo and John's face immediately soured. Lucy said it was because the last time they came to Australia, John got into a fight with a kangaroo. Needless to say he lost and has never gotten over it. After this he went into a rant. Something about the kangaroo having superior technology and something about molecules and pears. Perhaps when we go on our trip I'll introduce him to an echidna.

XXXXX

_January 29__th__ 2014_

Only three days left till our trip. I know I should be looking forward to it, but I keep on getting these weird feelings about leaving Sunday. Maybe it's just the fact that I'll be leaving Mum all alone for a whole month. Anyway, I've never left this hell whole in my life, its natural to feel a little jittery.

XXXXX

_January 31__st__ 2014_

We're leaving tomorrow and I'm all packed and ready to go. We're borrowing Mum's car since Lucy and John don't own one and I can't drive. I still have that lingering feeling of uneasiness in my stomach but I'll deal. Lucy says I may have a stomach bug, but I don't know, I don't really feel queasy as such. John says we can delay the trip as long as we want if I'm not feeling well, but I told him I'm fine. I promised Mum I'd get her some stamps from the gold coast.

XXXXX

_February 1__st__ 2014_

3...2...1...Blastoff! Today's the day! I'm writing this in the car right now so it may be a bit messy, but I really couldn't care less. I'm finally leaving Sunday! Monday here we come! Nah, we're going to the gold coast baby! Lucy's driving because, although he'll deny it to the ends of the earth, John's pretty horrible at it. I just caught a glimpse of the '_You're leaving Sunday' _sign. I can't wait to see the sea. The rolling waves, the sand, the shells. I'm feeling that feeling again though; it's anxiousness in my stomach. I'm getting tired all of a sudden, I don't know why. I can see Lucy and John are too. Everything's going _hazy_

XXXXX

_Still February 1__st__ 2014..._

I remember waking up in my bed at home. I remember turning on the light and being momentarily blinded. I don't think I realised anything was amiss until at least 30 seconds later, but when I did, I ran straight into Mum's room. I remember asking her what happened, why I was suddenly back at home. She asked me if I was okay then told me that we'd decided we didn't want to go on the trip after all and we came back, but I was tired so I took a nap. I didn't remember any of that. I still don't. I remember Mum taking a few steps towards me. She had this weird glint in her eye. She told me not to try and leave Sunday again. From there I ran all the way to the Smith's flat. I should have gotten a gold medal for that run, it was practically a bloody marathon. Anyway, the same thing had happened to them. We've decided to meet again tomorrow at the town border to investigate what's going on.

XXXXX

_February 2__nd__ 2014_

I'm writing this from that old barn at the edge of Sunday. The sun's setting and it looks like the red soil is sort of melting into the sky. I should find it beautiful. It's textbook beautiful. But I'm not in the mood for aesthetics right now. I remember waking up this morning; I was a secret agent, wearing all black, getting up at the crack of dawn, sneaking out of the house. I was the coolest kid in Sunday and I was so excited. I met with Lucy and John at the _'You're leaving Sunday' _sign, which is only a two kilometre walk out of town. John held up this device, which I assume was some sort of scanner thing. He pointed it at random places in the landscape. I thought he was a bit mad to be honest. I saw him telling Lucy that something was messing with the readings. At the time I wasn't sure what he meant.

Lucy told us to all hold hands and then together we all walked towards the border of Sunday. I'll admit, I was pretty lost. I had no idea what was going on and it scared me a bit. We all started to feel tired again but when we stepped back from the border we were fine. We decided to give it one more go but then I blacked out.

I woke up in my bed again. Even now I'm still coming to terms with the weirdness of it all. I got up to go to the kitchen and I found Mum there, I guess she was waiting for me. She was Mum, but she kinda wasn't at the same time. That glint in her eye was back and she looked pretty terrifying. I don't remember everything she said to me exactly, but I do remember her saying this, because she signed it so heavily and so forcefully: _"You shouldn't have tried to leave Sunday". _Then she picked up a knife.

I didn't really hang around long enough to find out what she was going to do with that knife. I ran into town, it felt sort of empty. I was crying so I couldn't really see where I was going and I bumped into Mrs. Hepner, an old lady from Tennyson Street. I pulled out my whiteboard and asked her for help; she'd always given out an air of senile kindness, though we had never really had any proper conversations before. She smiled at me then reached into her purse and pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. I had never seen a gun before. They were incredibly rare in Sunday. I heard Mr. Collins from Gregson Street owned one but that was just a rumour. I stumbled backwards and fell over. I skinned my knee.

I got up and kept on running. In any direction. I don't think where I was going mattered to me much, but I ended up in front of John and Lucy's flat, so my subconscious probably brought me there. I didn't knock on the door, but John must have been expecting me cause he opened it and ushered me in. Lucy was pacing around the lounge room. I asked them if anyone had randomly tried to kill them as well. Lucy said her manager at the post office had tried to electrocute her. I began hyperventilating. John told me to breath deeply and try to calm down, he wouldn't have me black out on them. I'm not very proud of what I did then. I pushed him off me and started shouting. And cursing. I'm not gonna write down everything I said cause it wasn't my best moment but I was horrible and I blamed him for what was happening. I said none of this would've happened if he and Lucy hadn't come to Sunday. He told me he was sorry but he was trying to fix it. I still feel terrible for shouting at him like that.

I asked Lucy what was happening. She and John gave each other the look. I hate the look. When two people know something they're not telling you. The look's on my list of top ten things people do that I hate. Right after when someone eats food that I was planning to eat. Anyway, I asked them again what was going on even though I knew I wouldn't get a proper answer. When someone's already given someone else the look you know you're never gonna get anything from them. They said they don't know what's going on. John told me we should probably get out of there though.

I followed him and Lucy out of their apartment and we stealthily made our way all across town, avoiding any people we saw. We were practically ninjas. We made our way to this barn on the outskirts of Sunday and now we've come full circle. The sun's just set and I'm feeling pretty shitty. Lucy says they probably won't find us here. I hope she's right. I just want to find out what the hell is going on and then for this to be over. I want my Mum back.

XXXXX

_February 3__rd__ 2014_

I've decided to record everything that happens today. It might help.

_10:00 am_

I woke up pretty late. Lucy says she didn't want to make me get up too soon since yesterday was pretty rough. I told them I needed answers. They gave each the look again. Damn it! They said they didn't want to say anything until they were 100% sure.

_11:00 am_

It's getting pretty frustrating over here. Lucy and John are talking to each other. I can tell because their mouths are moving in that weird way people's mouths move when they talk. They keep throwing glances at me. It's getting kind of unnerving. I wish they'd either talk in sign language or shut up. Being deaf sucks.

_12:00 pm_

Now they've stopped talking altogether. John keeps on waving his weird pen scanner thing around and Lucy's just sitting there. I wish there was something I could do to help. I'm not entirely useless. But every time I ask they say there is nothing for me to do. So now I'm just sitting in the corner playing Sudoku on my iPhone, which is nearly out of battery...

_1:00 pm_

I'm getting kinda hungry now. I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday. Wait... it's ok. Lucy just handed me a packet of those weird sweet potato chips that you can get from the organic store in Sunday Square. They're not that bad. Taste a bit oily though.

_2:00 pm_

John and Lucy have gone out to check on some stuff. I don't know. They told me to stay here though. I miss my Mum. I have no idea what happened to her and it's really freaking me out. What the heck is going on? Once they get back I'm going to demand some answers. They can't just leave me in the dark anymore. Just because I'm deaf doesn't mean I'm stupid, I know when something's really, really wrong. I just hope it's something we can fix.

_3:00 pm_

When they came back I was really planning to pummel them for information, but when they opened the barn door they started shouting at me to secure it and make sure nobody gets in. We ended up putting planks of wood across it just like in the movies. It turns out they were being chased by the crazy, murderous townspeople. Today's just gotten weirder.

_9:00 pm_

I guess I must've fallen asleep. It's all dark, which makes the barn feel kinda creepy. The townspeople have stopped trying to get in. I can tell because the wood is no longer shaking. John and Lucy are out of it. I want answers but I'll wait till they wake up.

_10:00 pm_

My iPhone's run out of battery. John and Lucy are still asleep. I've given up trying to play tik-tak-toe with myself in the dirt. I win every time. The moon is shining so brightly outside and there are no clouds in the sky. There are so many stars out there. I wonder what it would be like to see them up close; to visit other worlds. Maybe someday people will get out there. See the universe. Maybe someday I will. I doubt it though. For some reason I get the feeling like I won't be seeing the stars again.

_11:00 pm_

At almost exactly 11 o'clock a car crashed through the side of the barn. At least it woke up Lucy and John. A load angry, crazy people jumped out of back and started towards us. John took my hand and told me to run. He, Lucy and I ran so far and so fast. We ran into the bushland near the border of Sunday. We came to a clearing but I stopped John. I grabbed onto his wrist tightly and pulled him back. I demanded to know what was going on. I'm not proud to say I wasn't keeping it together very well. I was crying and shouting and gripping hard onto his wrist. I asked again. John gave me an annoyingly sympathetic look. He asked me if I'd ever played _The Sims. _I told him I had. He said it was a bit like that. This town, Sunday. This town isn't real. It's a virtual projection into our minds. The people aren't real people, they're just computer code. Like Sims, they can still do things of their own free will, but essentially it all comes down to the controller. He said he thinks he and Lucy have been put here to keep them out of the way from something, but when they tried cross the border, the system decided to get rid of them permanently. He told me there were heaps of little glitches everywhere. Then he told me to feel the dirt. It was cold. Today was really hot so why was the dirt cold? He said that was just one of the glitches. He told me it wasn't a very good program. They'd mixed up the dates. They took a 1950's town and stuck it in 2014. They got everything mixed up.

I asked him why was I put in here, why did they want me out the way? I wasn't anyone important. He just gave a sad smile...and then, in that moment, I knew. Just because I'm deaf doesn't mean I'm stupid. But I didn't want to know. I wouldn't let him say it. It would make it true.

If anyone is reading this now, you can probably tell that recently I've been trying to write down _everything_. That is because I want to be remembered. I want to remember myself. I don't want to forget who I am. I don't want anything to change me. This diary is my backup disk. I want all the memories safe.

Because I'm not real.

John told me this. I'm just another length of code. I'm a piece of software that mutated into a virus. The system lost control of me. I've been running amuck. They accidently made me fully sentient and now they're struggling to delete me. This life. Is a LIE. I didn't come into existence until Lucy and John arrived. My memories before are computer generated. I'm computer generated. So I know it doesn't matter what happens to me now. I was never alive.

_11:50 pm_

Time passes but it doesn't matter. It's not real time. And I'm not a real person. They say that they have to get out of Sunday, but them leaving will make Sunday cease to exist. Will make me cease to exist. They know how to get out, I can see it in they're faces, but they're trying to work out a way to take me with them. To make me real. But I can feel in my heart that it's just not possible. And they're running out of time. I can see the vibrations of the ground. The computer people are getting closer.

_11:55 pm_

I am Sarah Matheson. I am 2 months old and living in a tiny town called Sunday. This is the last time I'll write. I shouted at John and Lucy. I told them they have to take this chance. Because they both have lives outside of Sunday. And I'm being incredibly brave right now by letting them go and I'm not sure how long it'll last. They finally agreed. I said they needed to wait two minutes first. Wait two minutes for me to finish writing. Then they have to take this diary with them. They said that the diary couldn't exist outside of Sunday. I know it will though. I need it to. I told them this diary is me: My memories and my life, so they won't dare leave it behind.

_11:59 pm_

John once mentioned to me that some people live more in 20 years than others do in 80. It's not the time that matters, it's the person. I've lived for 2 months, and I can still say I've had an amazing life.

_12:00 am February 4__th__ 2014_

If there's a computer heaven, I hope they have stamps.

* * *

The Thorn gently turned the last page of the battered old diary. She wiped the tears out of her eyes.

"Do you know how she did it?"

The Doctor hesitated.

"I'm not sure. Turning the diary from computer code to an actual book must have used up an _enormous_ amount of energy."

After Sarah had given the Doctor her diary, he had used the sonic screwdriver to disable the illusion of Sunday and he and the Thorn had woken up on a spaceship, Sarah's diary in his pocket. His sonic screwdriver wasn't really his sonic screwdriver but the program makers didn't seem all that intelligent and they made the screwdriver have the same functions. The whole ship they woke up on looked old and dilapidated. No one apart from them was on board and they were just floating somewhere in space.

"I think that's why this ship is abandoned." The Doctor looked at the Thorn. "When she created The Diary she must have drained most of the ships power. This thing can't go anyway. Looks like the crew just jumped in escape capsules and left the ship here to float in space."

"I wonder what they wanted us out of the way for..." the Thorn said as she ran over to the TARDIS, the _real _TARDIS, which sat abandoned in the corner of the flight deck.

"They wanted us out of the way, but where they could keep an eye on us. Maybe they wanted to invade a planet. I don't know, there are loads explanations. Looks like they've scrapped their plans though. Maybe we'll never find out..."

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I just want to go home. Sarah, she was our friend and..." The Thorn sniffed and composed herself. "Anyway, I think we should do something for her."

The Doctor just nodded.

They made their way into the TARDIS and took off.

Now however, in the second corridor to the left, on the fifth floor of that blue box, there is a tiny room, holding nothing but a diary and a small plaque.

It says:

_Sarah Matheson_

_December 8__th__ 1993 to February 4__th__ 2014_

_The Girl Who Lived_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.**


	8. Grief

He's dead.

"_Do you want a cup of tea?"_

"_I've decided I want to be a doctor sis, help people. I think he would have liked that."_

"_If...you need anyone to talk to..."_

"_You can't just lock yourself away..."_

"_I know it's hard, but we need you back at Torchwood. We're a little short staffed at the moment..."_

"_He will live on forever in the memory of his closest family and friends..."_

He's dead.

"_Hey Lucy! Didn't you hear? Daniel and Marissa are having a second baby! Lucy...Lucy?"_

"_You can't keep on living like this..."_

"_You'll make yourself sick..."_

"_I've heard exercise can help. Perhaps you could jog? You do like running don't you..."_

"_Our greatest condolences..."_

"_He left you everything in his will..."_

"_We're sorry. We're so, so sorry."_

But he's dead.

* * *

Close all the curtains

Lock the doors

Wear a black shawl

Drink up the stars

Try to force their swirling, changing mass to seep like liquid into my hearts then return to fire and burn away everything else.

But it cannot be undone.

It can only be abided.

Endured for the first day

Then the second

And on until the calendar pages sweep like autumn leaves past my eyes

Barely noticeable

There has been a change though

Life has stopped and transformed and started again without me.

I'll put on a smile.

Perhaps I'll fly away; forget

But how can I drown a memory when it has been burned black into my brain?

I will disappear though

Soon

I will leave with what is left of my dignity and my hearts

They are not quite dead

* * *

Though she carries them with care for they are dormant and broken and sickly

She will escape this universe

Its stench, like rotting seaweed fills her nostrils and cannot be accepted any longer

She must escape this universe

She will find a way...

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who**


	9. Hans' Wise Words

**Disclaimer: I probably shouldn't even attempt to own Doctor Who. I'd be more evil that Moffat.**

**A/N: By the way, I was just wondering what you guys think of Amy Pond. Love her/hate her, let me know, because I'm trying to decide if I should include her in some way or another somewhere later in the story. Thanks.**

Then came Ingrid Parker, who decided to travel Europe.

Then there was Ashaki Yar'Adua who got married and became a Pilot.

Afterwards was Tom McIntyre who severed his spinal chord defending Chicago.

There was Simon and Sam, who chose to join Torchwood.

Of course there was Trotiire Olij from the planet Isopien who just disappeared.

Then came Anneke West who joined the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.

There was Toby Robinson

And Lily Price

And Don Beza

And Amber Hynes

Unash Uza

Ollie Chesterfield

Steph Moore

Bridgette Smith

Ben Quilts

Xanthe Andrews

Sigrid 'Squid' Jones

Alex George

John Green

Danielle

Piolin

Joe

Milly

Caitlin

Yoshi

Izzi

Marg

Neil

Yvonne

Enid

Rachel

Noah

And then, she couldn't do it anymore. It drove her crazy. In the end they always left. Changed like the seasons as she knew they would. Prior knowledge did not make the event any less painful, but perhaps it made it easier to bear. Let her hold on to her hearts and let the scars be a little less deep. Maybe one day she would reach a point where she forgot their names and everything about them would drift away from her mind with each exhaling breath. The twisted air of cigarettes from a smoker's lungs. The Thorn hoped she would not live that long.

It had been a long time since the Doctor died. The Thorn wanted to hate him for leaving her in this world alone. But she couldn't change how she felt; her emotions had grown roots inside of her. If anything, she hated herself for being left behind. More often than not she found herself making a comment or asking a question then turning around and finding cold empty air. It was falling down the stairs. The sickening moments in the morning after remembrance. It was claustrophobia. The excruciating aching tightness in her chest from her own ridiculous inability to change the past. Some people describe it as the feeling of falling, but it wasn't, not really. It was the feeling of hitting the ground. But she was strong on the outside. While her hearts writhed and twisted she put on the mask of a smile. Her laugh was not hollow but a moment of sickening clarity. She waited as time disappeared and the hours, then years followed in a mess of saturdays but slowly, despite everything, an infectious light grew in her grey eyes. The time, between her quiet moments of grief became longer and longer and one day she found herself laughing at a memory of him wearing some ridiculous tie. And so she allowed herself to live again.

They were never married. And they never had children. The Thorn didn't want anything to further complicate their life. For the same reason she turned down the directors position of Torchwood. It would tie her down and the responsibility of the job would be too much to handle. They had enough money to live comfortably and never have to work a day in a human's life, but even people so in love as they were needed time apart. The Doctor could be insufferable at the best of times.

After a while, with a little help from the Doctor, she started to forget their predicament and enjoy their time together more. She could never let go the dark days that lay at the edge of her foreseeable future, but did not dwell on them either.

Out of all the days to remember, the Thorn recollected a Thursday when she and the Doctor had taken a trip to the park before nightfall. The air was warm, but a cool breeze brushed through the trees like the gentle fingers of a pianist and the quiet sounds of everyday life reached their ears. She remembered every word of their conversation.

"I'm not getting on the swing no matter no matter what you bribe me with."

"Oh come on, enjoy life, there's plenty of time to be dead."

The Thorn remembered Rose turning to face him directly, eyebrows raised.

"Oh yeah? And who said that?"

"_Well,_ technically it's accredited to Hans Christian Andersen, but I said it first. He just copied."

And that's how she lived. She tried to enjoy every day, because there's plenty of time to be dead.

Her companions called her 'Thorn' like she called her Doctor 'Doctor'. She never told anyone her real name, because some things are better left in the past. Names didn't matter so much to her anyway. She was who she was and no simple sign would change that. After a while, however, she could no longer manage the loss of so many friends. So she travelled alone.

For longer than she cared to remember she had devoted her nights to seeking a way of crossing Universes. Days were for adventure. Nights were for escape. She based her work off the original dimension cannon, but she needed something that would work when the walls between the Mulitverse were at their full strength. She managed to make severe modulations to the original design though. The cannon now looked more like its namesake. It was a small, black, handheld device and was only missing one element, one crucial element that the Thorn couldn't seem to work out, to make it work.

Everyday longer that she spent in this universe seemed to scratch at her skin. This was her Doctor's universe, it used to be theirs together but then he died and took the deed with him. She needed to be home, with the comforting blanket of her original reality surrounding her. So when she found the only way back, she was heartbroken.

Her TARDIS. Her beautiful, faithful TARDIS 2.0 was the price she had to pay. If she connected a slightly altered dimension cannon to the console, she could go through dimensions, like creating a pathway of stepping-stones, but the TARDIS would be left behind. She had a vortex manipulator but it wasn't the same. She would lose her only reliable companion. She couldn't do it. She wouldn't be selfish like that. The TARDIS was a living thing. She existed throughout time and to destroy her would amount to murder in the Thorn's eyes.

The Thorn walked slowly away from the console and towards the dimension cannon which lay on its side next to the stairs. Perhaps she would take it apart and use the parts for something else. Something worthwhile. Suddenly the TARDIS made a strange sound and golden energy swirled out of the grate beneath her. The Thorn realised too late what was happening. Her beautiful girl was sacrificing herself. Tears came to the Thorn's eyes and with the dimension cannon still within her hand, she ran towards the console.

"No! Please no...You can't. I won't let you. You're all I have, don't do this to yourself! Don't do this to me. Don't leave me..."

The TARDIS just hummed weakly in response. The Thorn was now shaking. Sobs racked her chest as she held tightly to the body of her longest friend and she shouted. Shouted at her to stop. But it was in vain.

The dimension cannon in her hand started to glow violently, but she couldn't let go. The Thorn wanted nothing more than to drop the cursed thing, but it felt like the hot metal was sewed onto her palm.

And then the world around her started to disappear. Everything that she had built here, the material memories of her family and friends were pulled away from her. All those years turned to just pictures on pages within her mind.

And so the Thorn did the only thing she could do.

She let go...

* * *

_The pain! It felt like she was being forced inwards. She couldn't scream. She was miles underwater, the pressure gripping every inch of her raw skin. Her lungs burned from no air._ _She felt her hair be pulled from her scalp, her bones break and the golden energy of the dimension cannon still in her hand._

* * *

The Thorn came back to reality in a London alleyway. Perhaps she was back in her home universe but it was hard to tell since the pain gripped her tightly. She tried to let out a sigh of relief, but it came out half a sob and half a hacking cough, which shook her already damaged body. She peered down at her hands. Golden regeneration energy drifted off of them like smoke and sand sized stars. It burned, but not like the journey between dimensions. It was good kind of burn, a reliable hurt. She felt her body change, her self, transforming, but this time she welcomed it. It was time for a change. Time to let go of the past.

The regeneration energy took her fully in it's grasp. The golden dust went gushing and winding around her frame and started to break and twist and mend all those parts of her that were broken still. And when it stopped she didn't open her eyes for a while. She just stood there and even the standing there was different enough though similar at the same time. She was who she was and no regeneration would change that. Though how different could standing be? She felt taller than she was before. She was thinner, though perhaps a little too thin, since the chilling cold of the night pierced her far more than it should have. Her clothes were ripped and torn from the journey between dimensions then regeneration, and they hung off of her like the rags they were. A charity bin lay a few metres away. She rifled through it and picked out a pair of old jeans and terrible wool coat which was around her size. She knew the clothes were meant for the homeless but at that moment she was homeless too. Dignity aside, after pulling on the clothes The Thorn stumbled out of the dark, cobblestone alleyway and into a local bar. The yellow light and warmth welcomed her in. She sat down on a barstool. Her newly blond hair fell limply past her shoulders and her gaunt and shadowed face was bowed towards the seedy grain of the bench top. The Thorn asked for a glass of water from the bartender, which she nursed between her hands as if it were whisky. A blonde man came and sat next to her.

"Rough day?" he asked her.

"You could say that." She turned her head to face him. He wasn't bad to look at, but he wasn't really anything special. However, there was a kind of wit in his eyes that she hadn't witnessed in a while.

"Want me to buy you a drink?"

She shook her head and sat up a little straighter. "Nah, alcohol and I don't really get along well. Last time I had a banana daiquiri, I ended up on... well, let's just say that I wasn't a great sight to behold." Her voice was flat but the man pretended not to notice.

"Why did you come to a bar then? Not sure if you've heard but, a bar's usually the place you go when you _want_ a drink."

The Thorn shrugged. "It was warm, it was open, they served water."

"Ah."

They sat in compatible silence for a few minutes before the man turned to face her.

"What's your name anyway?"

The Thorn thought for a minute. She couldn't be a Smith. That name held too many memories and she was attempting to leave the past behind.

"I'm Lucy Cole. You?"

The man smiled.

"Harry. Harry Saxon."


	10. Before Dawn

**Disclaimer: Alas, I do not owneth Doctor Who.**

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while. I had exams. **

It seemed as though she'd never noticed the city's temper had splintered. Angry people walked down cracked, concrete pathways searching for the tallest buildings in which existed the jobs that they hated. Silent teenagers expressed angry colours onto crumbling brick walls, suffocating the spiders that lived within them. Tired humans stared down clocks, begging them to go faster and faster _and faster_ down the hill, and then, _then_ trying too late to pull themselves back. They had run too fast and hit the ground too hard. But perhaps that was best. The Thorn could never seem to stop and when she hit the ground it wasn't nearly hard enough. And then she met Harry.

He was bland. That was the best way she could think to put it. Like zucchini. But there was something about him that she couldn't seem to find with her naked eye. An extra taste at the tip of her tongue. So she exchanged phone-numbers like a human would. She saw the wonderful sights of London that she'd missed for so long. Everything felt better. The Thorn was back. Her home was in this air, and she breathed the oxygen in deeply so it would heal her damaged lungs. She had left her vortex manipulator in the alternate reality, so for now, London was where she would stay. Luckily she still had her sonic screwdriver handy.

They met again accidently, at her childhood park not too far from Powell Estate. The Thorn agreed to let Harry buy her a cup of coffee and after further deliberation, she decided that perhaps he wasn't so bland after all. He was like water, sleek and slippery, and he seemed to be seeping his way into her life. It wasn't as if she wasn't trying to avoid getting tied down, but she could never deny herself a mystery and there was something about him that drew her in. He had a black sense of humour, and the sometimes the things he said…but he was just joking. He was politician, which she supposed made an odd kind of sense.

He was fun to be around though. And he made her laugh. Just having a friend was nice. However she was worried he'd want something more, which for her, was just inconceivable. She'd spent her love long ago. And she wasn't ready to gain any more. Maybe that was the reason she didn't want to find the Doctor again. Not just yet. No matter, for now she had a friend and a home and that was enough.

* * *

12 o'clock on a Saturday morning the Thorn gasps awake. She shakes her head to try to release herself from her dreams. She does not really need to sleep, but it is almost an escape mechanism. She remembers the Doctor, up late fixing the TARDIS, trying desperately to escape the dream world and the horrific scenes that come with it. But this is not the norm for her. Her own dreams are rare and far between so for the Thorn, sleep is a blessing.

It is raining outside and the soft pattering of rain droplets hit the corrugated iron of the rooftop. Kind orange light from the streetlamps peer through thin curtains into her room. And silent tears ravage her cheeks.

She puts on unidentified shoes. She had slept in her clothes.

It is midnight in London. She jogs down the stairs from her apartment and opens the door from the rundown lobby to the street outside. Being such a late hour, it is almost deserted. She fumbles for the keys to a rental car and drives any which way.

It is hours before she stops. A beach miles away from London. She doesn't know where she is but she can't drive anymore and it seems so peaceful. The Thorn doesn't know what inspired her get in her car and just drive, but here it is dark and she is alone and she can pretend.

The beach is best before dawn, when moonlight still splashes blue against the white sand. The dunes cast a shadow on the shore and the long grass sways gently. The waves roar, topple over each other, like a race to an invisible finish line. For a while this is the only sound. There is a light breeze, and the air is still cold. Breathing it into her lungs is like ice down her throat and it reminds her other forgotten times. She seems to be the only one awake, the rest of the world still sleeps, and she is the only one seeing the earth for what it really is, before it too has to wake up and hold the weight of humans.

At night-time it is like the world is recharging for the day. But if she is awake she gets to see it. The Thorn finds moonlight far more beautiful than sunshine. It makes her feel like she is the only one. The shadows are the end of the earth and she is at the centre.

As dawn approaches, the animals are her orchestra. The hoot of an owl is a flute, the howl of a wolf a violin, the waves keeping the beat. All of them listening to each other; feeling the rhythm. Everything in perfect harmony. And here, there are no expectations, just the sand between her toes and the smell of the ocean. It is a place of peace, of solitude. A break from life. It is a place to believe that nothing else matters, that there is nothing to be done. It is a place where an unexpected hand touches her shoulder.

She spins around, and there is Harry Saxon, looking ridiculous, for it is not often you meet a man on a deserted beach at four am in a suit.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, eyes narrowed.

"What are _you _doing here?" he says back, and sits down cross-legged next to her.

She waits a moment before replying, "Thinking, well…and running." He smirks.

"You're sitting down."

She sighs "Not that kind of running. What are _you _doing?"

He smirks again "The same."

That makes her smile and she shuffles over to put her head on his shoulder. They sit there for a while and watch as the people start to populate their deserted paradise. It is almost wrong.

Harry shuffles away from her and grimaces.

"Do you ever wonder if they're real?" His voice has almost a damaged quality to it.

The Thorn continues to stare at the horizon but frowns. She replies curtly. "Yes"

This makes Harold Saxon grin a great deal and sends a shiver down the Thorn's spine. She continues.

"But I know they are. I was one of them once."

"Was?"

The Thorn just nods. Harry doesn't push it.

She turns around to face him and she doesn't know why but something, in that moment, something breaks.

"Don't you wonder who they are though?" she is speaking almost manically now.

"They all have lives and families and homes, but as they walk past they… they're not people. No they're not! They're just objects. Grains of sand!"

She edges closer to him and he is really grinning now. She puts her hands on his shoulders and shakes him.

"And one of them could easily be a friend! I drop my phone and oh…. They stop to pick it up for me. But still. Still! They don't exist. They do not… they don't, they don't think. Their actions and everything… they are nothing but reactions to our own. Oh and once they leave my sight, once _you _leave my sight, you have… ceased to _be._" She has stood up and is shouting at him now. Harry Saxon just sits and grins.

"Of course, of course… I can… Of course… I can imagine them thinking, I can… _imagine_ them acting, but I'm not… I'm not imagining _them…_ I'm imagining myself. What I would do, how I would act. But that's wrong, it's so, _so, SO_ WRONG!"

She stops herself and her voice goes deadly quiet. She is breathing hard. "Because I'm not one of them, and I can _never _be. Never again. It's all gone… Why Harry… WHY DOES IT HURT?!"

She collapses in his arms and cries; they are the tears of broken regret. And. He. Relishes in them.

"Come on… I should get you home."

For the entire car ride back to London, she doesn't speak at all. The Thorn just stares out the window and hopes dearly that simple Harry Saxon will never ask her to explain.

Once she gets back to her apartment she says goodbye to Harry and watches him drive away into the distance. She climbs the steps to her apartment and once inside, falls into the folds of her sheets. She wraps them around herself tightly. And as she falls softly into oblivion, there is nothing, she hears nothing, nothing, except perhaps, a soft tapping.

_tap tap tap tap… tap tap tap tap… tap tap tap tap… tap tap tap tap…_


	11. The Life of Rose Tyler and John Smith

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. **

The Void is nothing. Therefore it is only common sense that there must be something on the other side of nothing. For if there wasn't something else then the nothing would be something in itself. It's all relative. And many somethings away, within a particularly dense part of nothing, Rose Tyler lived in the English countryside with her husband John and their small daughter. John worked as a GP in the local village, which was about an hour away and Rose ran an online clothes store from their living room. They'd just payed off their mortgage and John bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate. They poured their daughter a glass of mineral water mixed with red cordial so she could join in.

Their house was small but it was theirs; something to be proud of. It was made of brick but an extension had been built at the back that had wood panelling and would get awfully hot in the summer. Most of their furniture had been bought second hand, since as newlyweds they couldn't afford anything else and they hadn't felt the need to refurnish since. When they bought the house, the guest bedroom had been painted a vibrant blue. John liked the colour and wanted to keep it that way but Rose thought it was garish and immediately bought a can of boring cream coloured paint to redo it. John told Rose to leave it as it was, because if they ever had a child he wanted them to grow up within a room of such outlandish colour. This made Rose blush profusely.

In the garden, their daughter now plays within the sunflowers that they planted for her. In her hands are several green tomatoes that she had plucked from their vegetable garden before they had time to ripen. Rose rushes out of the house and sneaks up behind her. She loops her arms around the little girl's middle and hoists her up into the air. The child shrieks and then laughs; smiles into her mother's arms. Rose takes the bruised tomatoes out her hands and throws them into the garden.

It's a Sunday so John's not at work. He sits on a deck chair reading _A Study in Scarlet_, which he maintains, is a terrible book since he worked out the killer within the first five pages, though he still sits there, eyes glued to the page. Rose tells him if he doesn't like it he should read his course book instead. John is taking an online course in engineering since he doesn't think he wants to be a Doctor anymore.

They met skydiving. John was a bit of an adrenaline junkie and Rose's friends had convinced her to give it a try. Rose was a bit scared, so John gave her a stuffed bear to jump with. He was almost 10 years older than her but eventually they started dating.

They fell in love and got married and bought a house and had a daughter and named her Frida. They planted a garden and changed jobs and payed off their mortgage and celebrated with champagne which they didn't drink. They went to see Frida in her school musical and they bought extra tickets for Rose's Mum and John's parents. Rose stopped dying her hair and John got a promotion and they started buying full cream milk instead of low fat and they repainted their dining room and they bought some recipe books and John started liking pears and life was good. And when the Thorn was sadder than usual it made her happy to think that in one of the infinite universes out there, this must be true.


	12. The Bracelet

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who, Doctor Who, Wherefore art thou Doctor Who?**

**A/N: Sorry about the wait.**

Harry was her support in this world. He was reliable and friendly and slightly messed up, but she loved that. They would hang out on weekends when she wasn't working at her new job (waitress) and it was nice having a break from the whole saving the world thing. The truth was that she found it incredibly hard to not just run away in the middle of the night and fix someone else's problems so she could put on a show and people would look at her in wonder and she could get lost in the moment, so everything that was wrong with her life, everything that was horrid and wrong and disgusting about her, would just disappear. She was conflicted. She wanted action but something was holding her here. Strapping her down to this dreary London life. Anyway, these days she couldn't just pick up a companion and whisk them away. The closest person she had was Harry, he was her metaphorical shoulder to lean on, and he had a very important life here in this concrete city. She knew that soon he would leave or die like the rest of them and she would keep on living because that is her punishment for the things she has done or because she simply must. Either way, a friend was nice for now.

* * *

For her "birthday" Harry got her a bracelet.


	13. Thoughts All Over The Place

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who… I am ashamed.**

It was lovely. Bands of silver and gold were intertwined and little transparent jewels were studded along the side. She looked up at Harry and smiled. It was a rare smile. It was a brilliance that didn't come from her lips, but her eyes, and whispered many different things. Most of all a silent thankyou, such a thing that could never have been spoken.

Harry gestured for her to put the bracelet on and so she slipped the ring around her wrist.

And although the Thorn had never realised it was a game that she had been playing, that was the very moment when The Master won.

* * *

_**He**__'s so b__**e**__autifu__**l**__, w__**h**__y didn't I r__**e**__a__**l**__ise it b__**e**__for__**e**__…_

_ I don't know w__**h**__at I was t__**h**__inking_

_ I cou__**l**__d b__**e**__**h**__appy…._

_ Just __**l**__ist__**e**__n to w__**h**__at __**H**__arry says…_

_** He**__ must b__**e**__ rig__**h**__t…Do w__**h**__at __**H**__arry wants you to do…_

_ …you can trust __**h**__im…_

_**He**__ will n__**e**__v__**e**__r __**h**__urt you…_

_** HE**__ would n__**e**__v__**e**__r __**le**__av__**e**__ you…_

_ Trust…_

_** He**__ is __**l**__ik__**e**__ m__**e**__… A tim__**e**__**l**__ord h__**e**__ to__**l**__d m__**e**__…_

_**H**__ow do__**e**__s h__**e**__ know?… just trust __**h**__im…_

_ I don't __**h**__av__**e**__ to b__**e**__ a__**l**__on__**e**__, I don't n__**ee**__d a Doctor…_

_ Of course of course of course of course I wi__**ll**__ marry you…_

**He** wants **E**arth h**e** wants to tak**e** over **h**e wants to ki**L**l…_just trust __**h**__im…_

_ Do w__**h**__at__**e**__v__**e**__r __**he**__ says __**he**__ is a__**l**__ways rig__**h**__t __**he**__ must b__**e**__ rig__**h**__t…_

_** He**__ is kind to tak__**e**__ t__**he**__ wor__**l**__d…_

_ Running, running, running for prim__**e**__-minist__**e**__r..._

_** He**__ wi__**ll**__ win __**he**__ a__**l**__ways wins…_

_S__**h**__ow __**h**__im __**he**__ can trust you… __**he**__ can a__**l**__ways trust m__**e**__ I am __**L**__ucy Saxon and __**H**__arry can trust m__**e**__…_

_ It wi__**ll**__ b__**e**__ a b__**e**__autifu__**l**__ wor__**l**__d…_

_W__**e**__ can ru__**le**__ tog__**e**__t__**he**__r and I won't b__**e**__ a__**l**__on__**e**__…_

_ N__**e**__v__**e**__r a__**l**__on__**e**__ n__**e**__v__**e**__r a__**l**__on__**e**__ n__**e**__v__**e**__r a__**l**__on__**e**__ n__**e**__v__**e**__r a__**l**__on__**e**__…_

_** He**__ can kiss m__**e**__… _

_**P**__RIM__**E**__ MINIST__**E**__R __**H**__ARO__**L**__D SAXON…_

_ A woman com__**e**__s and asks…_W**h**at am I doing w**h**at is ha**ppe**ning w**h**at am I doing!?..._**He**__ can trust you, __**he**__ can trust m__**e**__…_

_S__**he**__ n__**ee**__d__**e**__d to di__**e**__ b__**e**__caus__**e H**__arry is a__**l**__ways rig__**h**__t and __**he**__ won't l__**e**__t m__**e**__**h**__urt…_

_ B__**e**__ strong for __**h**__im s__**h**__ow __**h**__im you'r__**e**__ strong__**!**_

_ T__**ell **__**h**__im __**e**__v__**e**__ryt__**h**__ing… I was Ros__**e**__, I was wit__**h**__ t__**he**__ Doctor, Bad Wo__**l**__f…_

_ T__**he**__ Va__**l**__iant, __**he**__ nam__**e**__d it aft__**e**__r m__**e**__, the va__**l**__iant c__**h**__i__**l**__d…_

_ Trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im…_

_T__**he**__ toc__**l**__afan__**e**__…_

_ DOCTOR!... ignor__**e**__ ignor__**e**__ ignor__**e**__, do not n__**ee**__d __**h**__im, I __**h**__av__**e **__**H**__arry now…_

_ Do not f__**eel**__, you ar__**e**__ not w__**e**__ak, s__**h**__ow __**h**__im you'r__**e**__ strong…_

_Danc__**e**__ to t__**he**__ music…_

_Smi__**le**__ smi__**le**__ smi__**le**__… just trust __**h**__im… _**Pe**o**ple** ar**e** dying…_trust __**h**__im __**he**__ is a__**l**__ways rig__**h**__t…_

_ I wi__**ll**__ n__**e**__v__**e**__r b__**e**__ a__**l**__on__**e**__ again, I__** h**__av__**e **__**H**__arry and __**he **__**l**__ov__**e**__s m__**e**__…_

_Trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im trust __**h**__im..._

* * *

And a mere day after a tenth of the worlds population is decimated by the toclafane, high in the sky on the valiant The Master asks his wife to pass him her bracelet for a second, and when she does…

She screams.

**A/N: Points to anyone who can guess what I've done with the Bold highlighting. Stick with me, everything will be explained in the next chapter.**


	14. A Beautiful Life

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Doctor Who, just imagine… but alas, it can not be…**

**A/N: Points to those who got what I was saying with the highlighted letters. They were 'h', 'e', 'l' and 'p' so if you didn't guess, I was just trying to emphasise the Thorn's unconscious cry for help.**

Up aboard The Valiant, deep in the bowels of the ship, there was a Beautiful Room. The walls were shades of gold and a crystal chandelier hung low from an ornately carved ceiling rose. Within the room were Beautiful Things. The bed was a deep mahogany with blue intricately embroidered covers. Drapes that fell to the ground like water, shimmered and shined giving illusion to a sun, covered the simulated window through which showed nothing but darkness, so one to which this was unfamiliar would think it was night. Above the fireplace the mantelpiece was home to beautiful jewellery. Diamonds the size of golf balls hung off silver chains and rubies were set in a variety of different rings.

Sitting on the bed was a Beautiful Woman. Her blond hair was styled to curl and she wore black dress pants, a black turtleneck and gloves by her own choice so her skin was completely covered. Her lips were a large, fake bright red, a cold colour despite its shade, of which was not her own choice. And if one faced south, with this the only evidence, an unrelated observer would deduce that this Beautiful Girl, who lived in this Beautiful Room, surrounded by Beautiful Things, must live a Beautiful Life. If they would only turn around…

Across the entirety of the north wall stretched a mirror in which the girl could see herself. However instead of polished and clear glass, deep and long cracks extended their way throughout and in such a way that seemed to mar the girls face with crystal scars. They ignited a spark of memory within the girl's mind.

_The Master smiled despite being pinned up against a wall._

"_What did you do to me?!" The Thorn snarled at the evil man in front of her._

"_Your were my friend" She screamed, "I trusted you, I told you things, what did you do? What did you do to me?!" _

_The Master pushed her off him and she staggered backwards. He raised his eyebrows in such a way that showed his malicious intent but The Thorn did not feel fear from him, she was too angry. She _was_ scared though. She was scared of what she had done, what she had allowed to happen. She was afraid of herself._

"_Oh just a little fun in your mind. A few electrical impulses here, a few hormone stimulations there. See the Time Lord mind is fundamentally different than humans. A tad harder to play with. So you'll understand why I'm quite proud of myself. Some of my best work. " He grinned and walked towards her. "You've probably guessed… though maybe not. You've always been a bit dim for a Time Lord, perhaps it's your human origins. Oh I'd _love_ to run a few experiments, though not right now. Anyway, Time Lord mind control requires a constant psychic connection, and really I couldn't be bothered to do it all the time so I needed something physical, an object with a copy of my mental signature. Oh and haven't you heard? Bracelets are the new black." The Master's grin widened. "You made it so _easy _though. So much trust, so much blind faith. That and you've always seemed to me a Chameleon Circuit short of a TARDIS."_

_His words made the Thorn finally snap. She screamed and ran at The Master. She pushed him towards the mirror on the wall and smashed his head against it. Shards of mirror fell onto the floor. The Master shook his head to come out of his daze and the Thorn bent to pick up a shard. The Master lifted his hand and felt the back of his head. When he brought his arm down she could see that his fingers were covered in blood. His eyes widened and he looked up at her like he was truly seeing her for the first time._

"_Oh, you shouldn't have done that." He charged towards the Thorn and when he reached her, he took a sharp intake of breath. The Thorn backed away from the Master and fell onto the bed. Sticking out of his abdomen was the shard of mirror that she had picked up from the floor. He staggered backwards and glared at her. He pulled the shard out of himself and clutched at his stomach. His breathing was slightly laboured._

"_I had specific plans for you. Use you to torture the Doctor. Now I might have to revise those a bit…"_

_He reached for the door and practically fell out of the room._

The Thorn snapped out of her memories and traced the jagged crack in the mirror with the tips of her fingers. There were worse things to come. She could feel it in the timelines and in her gut. But there was no one to blame for this mess but herself. If she had been more observant, if she hadn't trusted him as blindly as she had, then none of this would have happened. Ultimately, it was her faith in humanity that had let her down. Of course The Master wasn't human but at that time she believed he was. Just because you care about someone, doesn't mean they care about you. They just use you for their own personal gain; sometimes it's just a sick game. She had forgotten that, and now she had to learn the hard way.

She had wondered most of the previous night how The Master had known she was a Time Lord and not she him and she thought she had it worked out. The Master had obviously been wearing some kind of perception filter, a strong one, a very strong one. And despite her many talents, the Thorn had to admit spotting perception filters was never one of them. So that explained why she didn't know about him but how he had known about her was unexplainable. Recognizing Time Lords was all about the psychic link they all shared. The Thorn had long ago shut off her mind from any of that sort of stimuli and intrusion. When The Master was controlling her mind he had used a physical connection (the bracelet) to then establish the psychic one. In other words, he had lucked out. So how he knew about her species beforehand still was a mystery.

She heard a cough from her left and looked up. The Master leant arms crossed against the doorway. He smirked.

"Well, you look terrible."

The Thorn scowled. "Yes well, I suppose you're looking a whole less bloody than you did yesterday." She retorted reminding him of their previous encounter. He brushed it off. He stalked his way towards her, his face displaying a look of contempt, but beneath that she could see a tiny speck of fear in his eyes. She lowered her head to hide her smirk. Being stabbed could do that to a person.

"Time Lords heal a lot faster than the apes. Of course, you would know." He moved quickly and grabbed her wrist. He pulled back her sleeve to show a long faded scar across her forearm. He smiled "Looks like I'm not the only one who was injured yesterday." The Thorn jerked her arm back and quickly pulled her sleeve down again. She said nothing.

"I had plans for you, you know. At first you were just going to be a prize, the third last Time Lord on my arm, but then, _oh then_, you told me of your past with the Doctor and oh Christmas had come early. The Doctor's ultimate torture: Your pain." He put his hands on her shoulders. She didn't flinch.

"But then, _then,_ you had to go pull that little stunt and I can't just let that go unpunished. And you know what? Maybe I don't care so much about the Doctor anymore. He's old news; old hat. And then there's you, all shiny and sparkly and new. You're might just be my knew interest. The fun's in the game you see. Well, for me anyway. And I've just thought of the perfect game. How about lets play pretend…"

And with that, The Master skipped out of the room, leaving the Thorn confused, with a lot of questions and not a lot of answers.


	15. The Master's Game

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who**

**WARNING: This chapter has some darker themes.**

"_You may not speak_

_But all is said_

_Your eyes are closed _

_But your teeth are bared"_

The Master called out to her, the sound echoing off the vast, damp walls of The Valiant. His voice low but playful as he slowly spit out each slick syllable of his ghastly rhyme, taking an _excruciating_ amount of time between each line; as if hanging by his white fingers from each breath before finally, letting himself slip off the side. He found his way uncomfortably close to her stiff figure and hot wisps of his words weaved their way like smoke into her ears.

"_What good is good_

_When you just get burnt?_

_What does kindness_

_Give you in return?"_

His demeanour changed suddenly, and he took several steps back from her. His tone seemed to enquire rather than demonstrate. He spoke as if commenting on the weather, as if asking her what she had for breakfast that very morning. He seemed entirely interested though, like he was actually questioning her and he paused a little after finishing. He took a deep breath as if waiting for her to reply, but before she had a chance to speak he raced off again.

"_So snap their bones_

_And peel their skin_

_Slit their throats _

_And crack their shins"_

He was excited now; an unearthly and entirely disconcerting gleam crawled its way into his eyes. He spoke faster and faster and allowed himself no time for air. He raced from one sound to the next, as if he couldn't get them out fast enough. He seemed to get a terrible pleasure from his words. Even his body tensed up and he stalked his way towards her; a terrifying yet disgusting creature, his limbs moved strange ways and there was wrongness throughout his entire figure.

"_Spill their blood_

_Forget their names"_

The Master almost screamed. Then, he let out a huge breath and tilted his head back, a smirk finding its way onto his face. The horrifying blackness that had become a part of him seemed to dissipate and he was taken over by an eerie calmness; waves flattening out after a storm. As if the monster inside of him had been temporarily appeased. He looked up at her and pouted.

"_Why won't you join me_

_In my little games?"_

* * *

The Thorn had long ago figured out what The Master was playing at with her. He showed her off in front of The Doctor. He made her do terrible things while in his presence. He forced her to appear on his own arm as his simpering yet profoundly cold and cruel wife. He made her smile as she watched people die and laugh as he used The Doctor in his "jokes". As he said before "play pretend". He had a hold on her and they both knew it. He had very clearly explained to her, in a high level of detail, the range of different tortures he would inflict on The Doctor, should she disobey his orders. More physical than emotional, unlike her own tortures.

At first she tried not to care, she would not kneel down to this evil man. He could do whatever he wanted to The Doctor, for she had stopped concerning herself with him long ago. So when on a whim The Master commanded her to kill a lazy soldier she had refused. The very next day he had one of the Jones's connect a sound system to her room that he could control himself, so that throughout the night she could here the screams of a usually composed man.

The next day she saw The Doctor's body, which in it's aged form so reminded her of her other Doctor. When she saw him bruised and broken and covered in needle marks and tiny slits through his skin, she stopped kidding herself and did what The Master told her to. Because no matter what she told herself, no matter what she told others, despite everything, she still loved The Doctor and she wouldn't let The Master torture him.

That however wasn't his only hold on her. She of course had told him in a moment of weakness something very important.

Her Name.

And while The Master may not have realised the true extent of it, The Thorn knew what he could do if he thought about it. The Doctor, here on The Valiant was obviously a younger version who had yet to travel with Donna and had never seen the stars go out. He had yet to meet _Rose _again when the Daleks had invaded the earth and she had crossed over to this universe the first time with her dimension cannon. When they had met then, The Doctor had not seen her since they had been separated the first time and he had obviously not known about her status as a Time Lord because if he had he never would have left _Rose_ in the other universe. If The Doctor were to find out now that "Lucy" was in fact "Rose" then there would be dire consequences. As in 'destruction of time and space' dire.

Perhaps The Master knew and perhaps he didn't but for The Thorn, the most horrible torture was not in the pretending but in the glares she got from The Doctor after she would commit some heinous act in the name of his safety. In his eyes she was The Master's wife, doing things for the fun of it. The looks he gave her killed her. They shook up her already shattered hearts and siphoned off little pieces one by one as if rationing a limited supply of water.

That.

That was the real torture.


	16. Swish Crack Scrape Snap

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Darn. I have an essay on the Positive Influence of the Potato Chip if the BBC wants to swap.**

_Swish. Crack. Scrape. Snap. Swish. Crack. Scrape. Snap. _

_Swish._ The red fabric of her usual gown pooled on the floor as it slipped past her hips and down her thighs. Fingers of satin caressed her skin and fell like water through her hands, but she was glad to be rid of the cold material that could neither warm her bones nor hide them. However, she never did look down. She focused her eyes on the wall opposite, staring faithfully, so as to not see her bare flesh. She knew how far every length of burnt skin stretched. She could feel how deep the slashes delved. Every foul mark, every blister and every calloused fingertip were etched in the confines of her memory. So she would not look down and be reminded of an ancient flowing canvas that once could shroud the paint within its thread. For now, that carefully woven tapestry, that quietly drawn illusion, held cracks and slashes and splashes of red. And despite herself, she cared. She cared so very much.

_Crack._ Now covered in severe abrasive black, she kneeled down and cracked, with just a touch, the hard plastic of the electrical box that sent power to the artificial window. Inside, twisting red and green copper wires danced, they twirled and tumbled within and between each other; a blanket of cold plastic. But beneath the mess was her salvation. The sonic screwdriver she had carefully stolen from The Doctor months ago. She knew it wasn't enough to escape _The Valiant,_ but it was enough to escape her boredom. This was the only chance she had found so far. The Master had left _The Valiant_ on "business" which she took to mean seducing yet another unfortunate girl far more innocent and more lovely than herself; corrupted and contaminated as she was. The Master attained little enjoyment from breaking something that was already broken. But no matter the immorality of the situation, it was an opportunity.

_Scrape._ She unlocked the sliding door leading directly from her bedroom to the lengthy corridor beyond. The Master hadn't thought to deadlock it. Thanking the universe for small mercies, she slid the door open scraping the base against the floor, leaving a lengthy gash in the polished wood underneath. She hoped no guards had the fortune to pick up on the noise, or if they had, wouldn't think to investigate. Unwinding the black cotton scarf from her arms, she wrapped the material around her head, hiding her lifeless blonde curls and obscuring her entire face except for her eyes; compelling their shallow blue to seem less insubstantial; creating a depth that one wouldn't notice before. She stalked down the corridors, sliding back into the shadows, their peaceful ink cloaking her whenever she were to cross the path of one of the Master's men. After perhaps twenty minutes of twisting her way through the Valiant's smooth metal maze, she reached the end of her journey, a rusty, yellow iron door, uncharacteristic for the ship's sleek silver surfaces.

_Snap. _The Thorn snapped back the stiff handle and rotated it 90 degrees until she heard the gentle hiss of releasing air and felt a subtle shift under her palms. From there, using the mass of her body-weight, she pushed open half of the entrance to the ship's engine room. And there, shackled to tall steel beams, stood an old man. His hair, like strands of straw, was a dark brown, short despite numerous months aboard _The Valiant_ and his posture alluded to the vitality of youth. But his eyes betrayed him. They twinkled in a way that only age could and there was hardness behind the shine that told of things best left forgotten and pain that would never quite fall away. His smile was kind though and it was teasing and familiar in such a way that the Thorn had to keep reminding herself that the man in front of her had no way of knowing her identity. Her face and body were hidden beneath sheets of black and even if he could see them he wouldn't realise who she once was; who she was to him. He winked at her.

"Is there a sexy ninja in front me or am I just dreaming. Again." He grinned saucily at her. The Thorn rolled her eyes but suppressed the urge to laugh. She looked him over disapprovingly instead.

"Stop it."

The man just laughed. "What, can't I say hello to a beautiful woman such as yourself."

The Thorn half-smiled at his antics. "Of course you can. But I don't call _that _saying hello." The man placed the mask of a frown on his dirty face and acted offended.

"Why, I have no idea what you are implying. If you are suggesting my intentions are less than noble then you are very much mistaken. We've barely even spoken a minute already you are questioning my chivalry, how rude. The name's Jack if you were wondering though, Jack Harkness. But you probably already knew that."

The Thorn shrugged. "I did, but there's no harm in repeating it."

"That's the spirit. So what brings someone such as yourself, whoever that may be, to my humble abode?" Jack gestured around himself with his fingers. "You don't seem like one of 'The-Master-Of-All-Things-Dramatic's men…or women I guess" he finished as an afterthought.

The Thorn just stared at him impassively. "How ever did you guess? Don't tell me, was it all this black, or perhaps the lack of an aura of overall, and may I say, impressive stupidity," The Thorn said dryly.

Jack ignored the sarcasm dripping from her voice. "A magician can't reveal all his secrets." Jack extended his neck trying to move his head towards his arm in a motion that almost looked like a spasm, but after perhaps ten seconds, failed miserably. He sighed. "Can we just pretend I was able to tap my finger against my nose?" he asked The Thorn hopefully. She snorted but nodded all the same.

"But really," Jack began, "Why _are_ you here. Because if you're here to free me and topple The Master's regime, well, that would be super."

"Don't get your hopes up Sonny-Jim, I'm just bored is all and you're a lot more accessible than Wrinkles out there on the deck." The Thorn pointed her thumb behind her.

Jack raised his eyebrows and looked at her disbelievingly, "Really? You're just here to _hang out_? What do you want to do, sing songs around an imaginary campfire? What with the aura of mystery, I didn't peg you for a girl-scout." He put on a sweet smile and tossed his head around imitating a little girl.

"Hey, watch yourself. I could be dangerous. And anyway, there's nothing wrong with wanting a little company. I'm sure it can't be all too fun being chained to beams in the engine room all day everyday. I'm betting you'll take what you can get, even from a stranger. Like _moi_."

After a few seconds Jack sobered up and shrugged. "I suppose. So… I've told you my name, you should probably tell me yours. It's only, you know, common etiquette. Even if these aren't the most common circumstances."

"Oh, because I take it you know _all_ about common etiquette."

"Ah, ah." Jack said waving his right pointer finger. "I see what you did there. Don't go avoiding the question now."

"Patience grasshopper, I can't go revealing all my secrets when we've only just met…"

"If you don't tell me… I…um…I won't talk to you."

"Fine."

Both The Thorn and Jack stopped conversing and an awkward silence befell them. The Thorn leant up against a nearby wall, seemingly examining her fingernails. She avoided Jack's eyes. After a while, he started making popping sounds; a wet and horrible noise. The Thorn broke. That isn't to say she's weak. In fact she was universally known for her great ability to withhold information under torture. But this man just drove her up the wall. "Fine! Fine. I suppose you if you must, can call me… The Thorn."

Jack grinned at his victory but coughed indignantly at the name. "Really? The _Thorn_? What is it with everyone around me picking bogus names? Seriously. I'm starting to think you should be having a little chat with The Doctor. Seems you two would get along just fine. The Thorn. _Really_."

And so, they argued late into the night. They argued and they shared edited stories of their adventures and The Thorn laughed more than she had in years. And Jack smiled at this unknown woman who had thrust her presence upon him and had the mysterious power to make him like her even when he felt he should trust no one in The Master's dimly lit and more than a little chilly world. And when it was time for her to leave he was almost disappointed. But it was time, time for The Thorn to creep back into the dark hole from whence she came. So she turned to leave. And Jack noticed something.

"Hey, what's that?" He gestured with his head to her wrist.

The Thorn looked down and noticed that her sleeve had skivvied up her forearm and revealed the tattoo of a rose that she had gotten shortly after arriving in this universe, during a particularly annoying yet strong bout of sentimentality.

"It's a tattoo, dumbass." The Thorn pulled her sleeve down to cover it.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I know _that_. Why a flower though? Knowing what little I do about you. I would've thought a skull, or a snake or something. Something brooding or badass. Why the flower?" He was genuinely intrigued.

The Thorn suddenly felt vulnerable, which she knew from past experience was never a good place to be. So she turned to face the door and took several steps away from Jack before stopping and she said:

"I…I just like botany."

And with that, she was gone.

And Jack was left with a niggling feeling in the back of his head, that perhaps there was a great deal more at stake then he had previously thought.

**Please Review, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, and believe it or not, it actually helps (I know, shock horror!). Suggestions for the story are more than welcome, as is constructive criticism. Thanks for reading. You're all awesome.**


	17. No

**Disclaimer: I have this dream where I am the owner of Doctor Who, but unfortunately I must wake up, and when I do cruel reality sets in.**

**WARNING: This chapter may contains some darker elements, so I suggest if you don't like that to just be prepared and I suggest reading it anyway cause there are some super significant plot points in this chapter just a heads up.**

**MEMORIES ARE IN ITALICS**

"So you grew up in London?"

The Thorn raised her head at Jack's assumption. She leant against the wall in the corner of his 'room' as had become habit and took in a deep breath through her nose. It had be weeks since The Thorn had last come to visit him, which threw Jack off a little and since he had become accustomed to her company. She was cloaked in black as always.

"Why do you say that?" She threw her reply back at him slowly and her tone sounded utterly unaffected by his remark, but Jack got the distinct feeling in the back his head, such a feeling that crept quietly through the rest of his mind that her words were intended to injure. And he indeed felt the effect of them. He wondered if his earlier observation was even close.

"Um…well…I don't know. I just thought, you know, since you talk about it a lot…" He fidgeted in his chains nicking his wrist on a sharp piece of metal.

"You are not wrong, I did live in London for a short while, when I was young. But I didn't grow up there. I was still very much a child when I left." She exclaimed examining her fingernails avoid Jack's eyes. For some odd reason he felt a strong sense of relief that he had been correct.

The question of "How old?" escaped his mouth almost automatically and he wondered if he had crossed some sort of line, but she seemed to find his question so hilarious that she burst from her usually serene exterior into a fit of laughter until tears of mirth stained the cloth covering her face. Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Eighteen" She replied, wrapping her arms around her middle. Jack looked down at her indignantly.

"Hey, 18 counts as an adult. You're not a child when you're 18, no sir"

The Thorn snorted, knowing perfectly well why Jack was making such a point. When he was finished embarrassing himself, he relaxed in his chains and gave The Thorn an exasperated look.

"Where _did _you grow up then?"

"Norway" She threw back placidly, all of a sudden uninterested in their conversation.

Jack huffed and turned away. The first time Jack met The Thorn he had liked her. He enjoyed their light banter and felt as if they were somehow similar. Now however after spending more time in her company he had come to realise that he had been wrong. For a person of such a young age, she lived up to her chosen name immensely well. She was sharp and brutal sometimes, and she was yet to display the vulnerability again that she had when they first met. Of course Jack didn't blame her.

Although she hid it well with laughter and a certain charisma, there was a coldness about her. She was not as kind, not as compassionate as she pretended to be, though he was sure that she had been once. It was strange. It was as if she left her house every morning and simply forget to care about anything whatsoever, like one might forget their lunch or their car keys. Her lithe limbs and black cotton mask held illusion to a grace within her that wasn't there and Jack had to keep reminding himself that this girl could kill in a heartbeat (not that it was a problem for him) and not to show too much of his soul to this cunning woman.

Simply put, though he sympathised with her, he didn't like her as much as he had at the start.

He didn't like her indifference or her occasional cruelty, and he wondered what had happened to someone so young to make them so bitter.

Despite this, he loved their banter. However even the king of comedy needs a chance to take off his crown and put his feet up for a little while.

He sighed. "Why are you here?"

And she answered the same way she always had when he asked.

"Cause life's a bitch to the foolish."

And Jack lost it with her.

"Why. Why though. I don't understand. You said you just wanted the company, but I know you better now. You don't care about that sort of thing, so what is it? Why are you here?"

She went completely still and a strange expression found its way onto her face.

"Is that what you think of me?"

Jack remained silent, she had succeeded in making him feel guilty and he resented it."

"How old are you Jack Harkness?"

"What?" he asked confused.

"I asked, how old are you."

"I don't see how that's relev…" he spluttered.

She held up a gloved hand to silence him.

"We all have our secrets and our baggage, Mr Harkness. Do not assume for one second that you would have the strength to share in mine. And for that matter, a word to the wise, a sensible person does not give away their secrets lightly; remember there is always a cost. And if you want and example of what not to do, you need only look in front of you." She turned around.

"Goodbye Jack."

And she left, leaving Jack with a confusing newfound respect for the woman and later that night, he came to the realisation that maybe she had told him something after all.

* * *

In the weeks and months that followed their argument The Thorn visited Jack more often than ever. She was more withdrawn though and preferred to sit rather than stand, listen rather than speak. Some days she would come and merely sit curled up in a dark corner of Jack's room, arms around her legs and chin resting on her knees. When she was like this Jack was hard pressed to get a reply out of her, let alone a laugh. She had become reclusive and resembled little more that and ornament on the wall, resistant to stimuli.

To his credit, Jack had tried pretty much everything. Even when he had tried to get a rise out of her, saying all manner of vile things, she simply let his words wash over her like water. It was as if they just slipped off the hard shell she had created to protect her. From what exactly, Jack wasn't sure. He still had no idea were she went after there 'conversations'. For him it was as if she simply walked out of his room and ceased to exist. Nevertheless, he worried that perhaps he had done more harm than good.

For The Thorn, Jack's room was her sanctuary, a safe haven from the outside, at least for now. Her brain kept on running though wherever she went, and she couldn't get it to stop. Think, think, think, and the shadows of her own memories crept into the forefront of her mind. She spent all her time attempting to push them back but had little success.

_Slip, the knife pierced the heart; blood on fragile fingernails…_

She pressed her hands to her temples in the hope of quelling the fear that racked her body whenever she remembered.

_Crash, bullet behind the ear, smashing the glass…_

She breathed out through her nose heavily like one would when being hit hard on the back.

_She did it quick and cleanly but she felt the blood on her hands more than ever before; her own red fingerprint on every man…_

She knew she couldn't take off the black cloth that was her almost constant companion but she longed for the touch of a friend. Welcome skin on skin. A kind kiss on the forehead, not harsh and hard on raw lips as the Master liked.

_She felt it, the newly realised pity of a good man and his unwanted stare that these days followed her conscience around like a shadow…_

_Burns by her elbows and a scar on The Master's waist. Screams of the good man or bullets through the heads of soldiers. A red satin dress that lay abandoned on the polished floorboards and secrets that remained so despite certain peoples_

_efforts…_

_And a once beautiful soul that had been cracked by ice and couldn't be warmed again…_

The Thorn stood calmly, and without saying goodbye to Jack left his 'room' for

her own.

* * *

Scars bothered her. They always had. Or at least they had for a very long time. It was like the Master said, "You think you're old? Sweetheart you're a battered umbrella for snivelling moron's silly little problems. But you're young enough to believe that you'll be an umbrella forever. Wake up honey and see the storm. You're gonna break and that's where the fun begins."

How she hated him and how she loathed to agree, but The Master was right. Despite everything, despite her age and what she'd seen, she was still so young. So young and foolish and scars still bothered her.

* * *

She used to be softer The Thorn remembered. There was a time when her words weren't taken with a grain of salt, and she could make people laugh without thinking. These days when she wasn't with The Master, with Jack or suppressing memories she devoted her free time to getting back at the Master with little things.

Funny, how her pastimes changed with the centuries.

* * *

"Are you really ugly or something? Is that why you wear that scarf over your face all the time? _Come on, _just give me a hint to what you look like. Pretty please. Pretty please with a cherry on top. I promise I won't tell anyone. Scouts honour."

The Thorn laughed wickedly. Today she had just woken up feeling happy for some reason. Life just worked like that sometimes. You could be living in the deepest pit of sorrow and despair and still have good days. So this was going to be fun.

"Ok… I might give you a little itty bitty clue to what I look like if, and only if, you proclaim me the true master of I Spy."

Jack gasped dramatically. They had been playing a lot of I Spy lately and they could never decide who won. "You ask a steep price lady. I don't know if I can do that. I just don't know."

"Fine," The Thorn shrugged. "I supposed you'll never know anything about what I look like. Too bad."

Jack sighed in defeat. "Fine, fine. You are the true master of I Spy."

"Yes!" The Thorn shouted and threw her fist in the air. Jack chuckled.

"Okay, okay, fine, I suppose I have to give you a bit of a clue." The Thorn stuck one finger up between the cloth and her face and when she pulled it out, a blonde curl came loose and hung out under her chin.

As she did it, the face of a different blonde girl along with a pang of regret came to Jack's mind but he shook his head and focused on the situation.

"Oooh, wouldn't have picked you for a Blondie. I always imagined it black or dark brown at least."

"Not everyone's hair matches their personality Mr Harkness."

"Do you think my hair matches me?" He looked down to show her the top of his hair.

The Thorn snorted. "Well, you do have quite a _dirty _mind."

Jack started indignantly. "Hey! My hair is perfectly clean." He started sniffing himself and wrinkled his nose. "Oh that's rank!"

The Thorn burst into laughter. Raucous laughter until she couldn't breath.

_Poison in his tea, a tear of blood down his mouth…_

She immediately sobered and stood up to her full height.

"Goodbye Jack." And with that she was gone.

Jack just shook his head in confusion.

* * *

She was caught messing with the communication system. She waited for the guards patiently for she knew it was only stupid to run now. Despite her superior speed, she was not a match for a dozen guns. Funny, she thought, The Doctor was never afraid of guns. Perhaps it was his unwillingness to use them that somehow made him seem invincible. She was not so lucky.

A score of men marched forward like oversized tin soldiers. A man with short red hair and a thin moustache walked pompously towards her as if his job was of the utmost importance and proceeded to recite lines that The Thorn assumed he'd practiced an obscene amount of times.

"You Ma'am, are an intruder, as you must be well aware, on the greatest ship known to man, toclafane etc. ..._The Valiant. _We have very specific instructions to bring any such criminal immediately to Master Saxon." Ginger Guard as she'd opted to call him said.

The Thorn smirked under the black cloth. She then started to unwind it from around her head painstakingly slowly as to draw out the situation, finally revealing herself to the guards as The Master's wife. She revelled in their expressions of shock. The Thorn found she quite enjoyed watching people flounder.

The Ginger guard started then looked around nervously.

"Uhhh…Mrs. Saxon, I'm very sorry. You'll have to excuse my rudeness, if…if I realised… I never would have said such things, but, well, you must understand my confusion. May I ask, what are young doing in the tech room?"

The Thorn brought herself up to full height. "Please. Do not bore me with your silly questions" She sniffed haughtily. "I am here of course on the strictly confidential orders of my husband."

The Ginger Guard looked down. "Oh I am quite sorry." He shuffled awkwardly. "You must forgive my rudeness once again. There is never an excuse for prying. If you would allow me to make it up to you, I shall escort you back to the deck. If you would kindly just follow me…"

The Thorn raised her eyebrows. "Sir, I am perfectly capable of escorting myself."

"I really must insist…"

"I say again, I will escort myself. What, do think _The Valiant's _corridors are too complicated for a simple woman such as myself to navigate? Do you think that I need a _guard _to protect me from the _many _threats that lurk within our halls?"

"Uh, no, never, I just…"

"I do not know which you imply Sir, that a woman can not look after herself, or that our security system is somehow lacking…"

The man was simply speechless as The Thorn walked through the door and into the corridor with a smirk decorating her face. Oh, how fun it was to manipulate the idiots. How _easy…_

She had only made it a mere five steps outside the room when every door leading to the hallway, including the one of which she had just previously passed through, closed shut so incredibly suddenly. The Thorn felt a wave of pure, unadulterated dread pass through her. The fluorescent lighting that was ingrained into the ceiling started to flicker as lighting tends to do in times of great terror and The Thorn knew immediately before turning around who would be standing at the other end of the corridor.

"My, my, my, quite a cheeky one aren't we? I'm proud. You almost remind me of myself when I was younger, though not nearly as good looking."

The Thorn gave The Master the finger.

"Whoa there, easy. No need to be crude. But you realise that I can't just let that stunt you pulled in the tech room go unpunished. Or those little nightly visits to Mr Sleaze you think I don't have any idea about. Come on, for a Time Lord you really are incredibly moronic."

The Thorn stood completely still, horrified. She was stupid. Unbelievably, undeniably stupid. _Stupid Stupid Stupid! _Why she thought The Master wouldn't know suddenly eluded her and she came to the stark realisation that everything was about to go from worse to unthinkable. She was daft, rash. Her own guilty trips to Jack were going to cost someone a lot more than her sanity was worth. She was supposed to be clever. Time Lords were supposed to be clever. Why was she so stupid!?

And it was then that she recognized herself for what she truly was. Nothing. She was deluded. She called herself a Time Lord because she wasn't human and she didn't feel human anymore. But she was never truly a Time Lord. Biology really meant nothing. A title was just words like a heart was just an organ. Experience was what defined you and on that front she was quite alone. She was not Gallifreyan; she had never witnessed the twin suns or the Academy that The Doctor talked so often about. But she wasn't human, what she was, was not of the Earth.

She was a traveller, that's what she was, just a weary prisoner. She was a nothing, a no one, a nowhere; a child of the universe that lived within the empty space and because everywhere was home nowhere was. She was not a Time Lord, she was certainly not human, and so within that single second that passed and all of this went racing through her head, The Thorn became nothing.

"It's okay, you don't have worry about your dear captain. You know I really should have a lot of fun with someone who can't die, but for some reason, it just seems to loose the appeal. And The Doctor, well, he's a dog, and we probably shouldn't torture the family pet now should we wifey dear." The Master twirled his fingers dramatically until they ended up pointing at her.

"And guess who that leaves?" The Master grinned manically. "You know, you think you're already broken, that there's not much more I could possible do, oh but that's where you are so, _soooo_ deliciously wrong. See you've got to ask yourself, if you _know_ you're broken, how damaged can you actually be? Just a little food for thought, and…" He smiled and looked down before laughing gently and raising his head again. "And gosh darling do you need it." And then the lights blacked out completely and when they came back on again, The Master was gone, along with of a little of The Thorn's sanity and emotional control.

* * *

For Jack, it was just another ordinary day. Just the usual for him: uncomfortable chains, grumpy Joneses and food that wasn't even fit for a plane trip. His mind travelled back to last week and on to a certain blonde who had appeared in his mind. It had been a while since he had thought of Rose and it pained him to do so. The girl was practically his little sister and if he was perfectly honest he much preferred her company to that of another blonde who had taken to spending an awful lot of time with him recently. And of course speak of the devil…

But it was not the fiery Thorn who collapsed through his doors that day. It was a broken girl whose black cloth was stained darker with what Jack suspected to be tears and who looked thoroughly lost.

"Jack…" She almost sighed through heavy tears in relief. That relief scared Jack for it was not a happy one but rather the kind that was to say, "Thank god, I will at least be safe here for now."

"What's the matter, come here, come on, I'll listen." Jack said gently, a soft understanding look on his face. And not for the first time he wished he could reach out his arms to somehow comfort the chaos in front of him. Of course, he didn't tell her that she would be okay because Jack did not think now was the time for lies.

"Tell me, please help me understand. Tell me what's wrong." Jack soothed. The Thorn stepped forward hesitantly before slowly unwinding the black cloth from around her face until just her mouth was uncovered. And Jack had little time to process the lower half of her face before she was kissing him. Hard. There was a need, he could tell. He had felt that horrible aching loneliness before and the girl before him just needed somebody for a little while. So despite what many would think, Jack Harkness's reasons for not breaking the kiss were not for personal pleasure (it was not beautiful after all, there was too much pain and anguish and bleeding lips for that), but it was for a stranger that had become a friend in unlikely times. It was over as soon as it began.

The Thorn stepped back horrified with a hand over her mouth.

"I…I…I didn't mean…I'm so sorry, I was wrong. Please don't hate me. I can't…"

Her tears had stopped and Jack gave her a comforting look.

"It's alright, I know you didn't mean it, don't worry, it okay." And so for one of the few times in Jack's life, he soothed with his voice rather that his hands. And the lie didn't matter so much when put in perspective.

"Jack, I'm sorry, that was wrong of me, I can't begin to explain… you have to understand that I don't feel that way about you. I had…have someone else…"

"Don't worry yourself, I'm used to getting kissed for all sorts of reasons." Jack cringed at his own statement but The Thorn didn't seem to mind and in fact chuckled sadly a little.

"I sure," She replied.

They sat in silence for hours that night. It was neither comfortable nor awkward. It simply was. The quiet was gentle, like the orange tint of light from street lamps before dawn through thins curtains. Like the soft and kind caress of a loved one for no reason whatsoever. Like finally sleeping after years awake. It simply was. And when Jack was almost asleep, The Thorn asked him a quiet question and he responded with, in The Thorn's eyes, the simplest yet most beautiful answer there could be.

"Would you like to know who I am?"

"No."

**A/N: I'm sorry everybody that I haven't updated for a while but I have been so incredibly busy. Another thing, I realise that sometimes I can be quite vague in my writing and I prefer to imply and demonstrate certain plots points and characteristics rather than just come out and say stuff. It seems okay to me but I wrote it, so if you're ever feeling confused about what something means, please, **_**please **_**tell me so I can both explain it to you and make my story more 'user friendly'. **


	18. A Guide To Acting

'**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, repeat I do not own Doctor Who.**

**A/N: I hope you like this new chapter. It certainty took me a while. Be sure to leave a review at the door. **

* * *

The world is a happy place, thought a 6-year-old Rose Tyler as she played with her mother on an old, red-rusted swing set. A golden grin bloomed on her tiny features, and the warm wind brushed her hair, entwining its strands with leaves, yellow and wrinkled, like old man's hands. The city of London had been blessed with good weather for once, so Jackie Tyler had used the opportunity to take Rose on a little outing to the local park. It was a small park. The edges of slides and sandboxes had been worn and torn by harsh weather and the grubby hands of children. A laminated notice hung from a green pole on the outskirts of the playground. The council had decided that the little park was soon to be demolished to make way for a block of flats. To Rose Tyler, however, this small world was such a happy place.

* * *

The world is such a sad place, thought Rose, newly nine. Her mother had sat her down on the lumpy duvet covering her bed and proceeded to tell Rose how her father died. Rose had asked all her life, but Jackie, reluctant to relive the memory, had evaded the question for as long as possible. Now finally, after hearing the story, Rose felt almost hollow. She had expected some great emotion to come to light in her heart, but the sadness she felt was sympathy for her mother alone. She was not reduced to tears like heroines were in the movies; rather, there was simple emptiness. The best she could figure was that she missed the _idea_ of her father, for Rose had never met the man. It was disappointment also. She had always imagined her father dying in heroic circumstances, sacrificing his life for others. But he was an unimportant man and as such died an unimportant death. But Jackie had loved him dearly, and Rose couldn't even begin to imagine being separated from someone she loved, and so for that moment it was a sad world indeed.

* * *

Rose Tyler was confused. At the age of 12 she had received her first love letter sticky taped to the back of her locker. It was signed, "anonymous", but was obviously from Mickey. It was his handwriting. Small and messy with the 'g's backwards. It was written in the same pen that she borrowed from him all the time during English class, the pen with her bite marks around the base and a lid that would never screw on completely. Perhaps he had written the letter with it for some kind of sentimental value. Mickey tended to do those kinds of things. Rose pressed her fingers to her temples. This world was so confusing. She had always thought that if you loved someone then they would automatically love you back. It just worked that way. But she didn't love Mickey. She loved hanging out with him. She loved his cute little quirks and how he always stood up for her when the bullies made fun of her teeth. But she didn't love him the way grown-ups mean love. Oh the world was such a confusing place…

* * *

It was so unfair! The world was so unfair! No… her mum was unfair. The world had led her to Jimmy of which she would always be grateful. Why couldn't her Mum just accept that? She loved Jimmy and she was old enough to make her own decisions. She was 16 and not a child any more. Rose knew what love was, despite what her mum insisted. It was the euphoria she felt course through her veins. It was the urgent need, the need for him to be close, the electricity of skin on skin. Oh, and Jimmy was so good at that. Their love had taken off like a spark of fire in high grass, and now the fire roared and Rose couldn't think about anything else. She felt bad abandoning Mickey but it couldn't be helped. If only her mum would let her quit school. Jimmy would soon hit it big on the music scene, she could feel it. And who need A-levels when they're married to a rock star? If only her mum would be a little more reasonable. It was plain unfair.

* * *

The Universe was beautiful, so beautiful. And as the only home she had ever known was burnt and destroyed by yellow tongues of flickering flame, all she could see was the glory, the complete majesty of this incredible orb and the comfort of an almost stranger's hand in her own. A fullness formed in her chest; a tightness that enclosed around her heart. There was a warmth that made her want to scream to the heavens, not from pain, but from pure beauty and joy that gave meaning to something meaningless. To cry out a song that she didn't quite know yet, but she knew would become clearer in the coming days or years. Rose felt for the first time in her life like the stars her atoms came from. She held a beautiful existence in her palms; her time may be short, but it was valuable. Even if this world was as sad and confusing as it was happy, as unfair as it was beautiful, even if one day it would all come to an end in yellow flickering flames, her world was worth fighting for. And in this complex life she would always do what was right, despite how hard it might be. She would travel with this strange alien man, and do her very best to find meaning in the madness, and comfort in the chaos of this infinite universe. She would do everything within her power to make this place the greatest it could be; whether saving a starship or comforting a stranger, she would do her best, and that would _have_ to be enough.

* * *

In the end, this was what saved her. She had seen what the earth would become, and it wasn't going to end with a mad man's tyranny. These sorts of things rarely did. The Earth was going to end in the dust with which it was created. It would succumb to time, like all things did. It was inevitable and that was life. The Thorn hadn't done all she could, but she didn't need to. She could feel it in the timelines that this was all going to come to an end soon. It was in the strands and stories around her, all the days that will never come and those that were inevitable. The Master's reign wasn't going to last long. The brilliant Martha Jones would come through, she had no doubt. The Doctor only took the best.

She saw only pity in the Doctor's eyes these days. It was one of the Doctor's main beliefs that everyone was important, but important doesn't necessarily mean good, or valuable. The way he looked at her, it was as if she left a certain distaste in his mouth; an uncomfortable bitterness. She was only human to his knowledge and of course she was under The Master's thumb, but she was still cruel and willing to kill, therefore _so much_ lesser. Oh she was important but she was not worth anything more than the vilest creatures of the universe. And strangely The Thorn, after months of agony, found herself ok with that. Jack had kept her sane while she needed somebody's help to do it, but she found she didn't need him anymore either. The Master had upped the 'torture' leaving The Thorn in what he thought to be the existential crisis to end all existential crises. What The Master didn't know was that he had unintentionally given The Thorn a great gift.

A tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She was no longer trying to be a Time Lord and it helped more than was expected. She was left with nothing, a blank slate, and so she was able to re-invent herself. The Thorn didn't have to live up to the glory of a lost race. She could be whoever she wanted to be, do what she thought was right. And she could wait in the shadows for this silent war to end. She didn't need any more scars.

And so The Thorn started to weave some of her old fabric back into the blank canvas that she had become. It had not been lost after all, merely hiding beneath the heavy strain of her gathered years. Slowly but surely, The Thorn put colours back into the darkness and somehow renewed that old hope and zeal that had been sleeping under the surface of her skin. Of course she didn't let The Master see her transformation. She was a good actress, when she put her mind to it.

* * *

The world was a complex place, thought The Thorn. She had long since forgotten how old she was. It was full of intricacies, which a single person could never hope to know. Lonely souls that hid in the darkness but had faith that one day there would be light, that they would come out of these times of oppression stronger for it. For hundreds of years, The Thorn had held onto the fragile belief that there was no point bringing meaning into a place where meaning didn't belong, but she realized that perhaps that was the point of it all. That was what all creatures strived for, whether they be Humans or Daleks, Time Lords or Toclafane. They all aspired to the same thing, meaning or logic or order, some sort of proof that their actions will not come to nothing, that their words will not be lost in the endless stream of consciousness. So that was what The Thorn did. Since there was no point to this life, she created one.

* * *

The guards barely gave her a second glance as she strode onto the deck of the ship. The Master was away again, which was becoming an awfully common occurrence. The Thorn wore a short white dress with a light pink rose print. Tacky she knew, but she couldn't resist her own little inside joke. The Doctor was in a cage now. The Master had always been one for theatrics and he put on quite a show for the eyes of Martha Jones. It would be completely humiliating, she thought, to have been reduced to the body of an old man, then to a creature of all the years Time Lord biology hid.

She approached him carefully, like one might an abandoned child. He was starved for good company, she could tell. The Doctor fed off constant companionship, and good things never happened when he was left to his own devices, so she didn't know what she expected from the battered man.

"Hello there." The Doctor whispered through the bars of his cage.

"Well hello Doctor, I'm pleased that we're finally getting an opportunity to talk. I'm… Lucy, or that's what they call me." The Thorn took baby steps closer until she and The Doctor were within arms distance.

"I know. What does The Master want now? Something simple I assume since he left it to a human."

"Humans aren't all that bad you know."

"Ha! Look around you. Welcome to the human race. Only species in the universe that constantly fights among themselves. This is of human making, it may have been helped along by the whims of a Time Lord, but humans built this. And you know what? It will end with humans too. Maybe just a single one will stand up, or maybe every single person in the world. But I guess what I'm getting at is, humans are entirely unpredictable, and that's why I know The Master would only let you do simple tasks."

The Thorn smiled and looked to the ground. She had missed The Doctor more than she let on.

"I see. But The Master didn't ask this of me. He is 'out', I suppose you could say. Ruining the lives of some poor men down on the Earth's surface. He seems to do little else. Putting on a show for the eyes of people who will soon not remember." The Thorn sighed.

"The Master does like his theatre." The Doctors eyes widened. "What do mean 'soon not remember'"?

The Thorn seemed to ignore him and walked over to a nearby guard. He saluted. She raised an eyebrow.

"Give me your chair." She requested assertively. It was the only way to be around the guards. Confidence was the mark of a good actor. If you seemed unsure, they would be less likely to believe you or grant you your request. Any super spy or drama teacher could tell you that. The Thorn had gotten into many a top-secret facility simply by walking through the front door like it was her own. The guard quickly relinquished his chair. The Thorn brought it over by The Doctor's side and sat down.

"That _is _your plan isn't it?"

"How did you get that information? Does he know? Does The Master know?" The Doctor whispered frantically.

"_Please_. Don't be an idiot and don't insult my intelligence. Of course he has no clue. I hardly realized that plan of yours was meant to be a secret though. Anyone with half a brain could figure it out. Unfortunately, or fortunately in our case I suppose, there doesn't seem to be many of those around. The only reason The Master hasn't caught on is because he has a silly little habit of ignoring the obvious in favour of the facts that suit him. Truly is a politician that one. But a gun in four parts? _Really._" She scoffed.

The Doctor turned silent for a moment before speaking. "Why not tell him though? You follow his orders. You _murder _people in his name. You're his _wife. _What's the catch? What are you playing at? Why are you even _talking _to me?"

The Thorn took an exaggeratingly deep breath, and then shaped her lips into a circle, slowly blowing out a tunnel of air, like she was smoking an invisible cigarette. She even coughed lightly afterwards for effect.

"We all have our own little secrets _Monsieur M__é__decin, _we've barely gotten to know one another, and already you are demanding mine. Tut tut, one does not want to appear eager. But I suppose that you could say that _dear old Harry _and I are having, shall you say, a marital dispute." The Thorn grimaced._ "_You see he wants to take over the Universe and kill billions of people, typical man stuff you know, but in my books…that's just not cricket. He's a bit grumpy with me at the moment." The Thorn lifted her hair out of the way to reveal and large bruise on her left cheek.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. "Just who are you Lucy Saxon, what is it that you want?"

The Thorn grinned. "Why Doctor I am a very important person with absolutely no human worth to speak of. And you know what?" The Thorn leaned in closer. "You knowing who I am will have absolutely naught effect, if not hinder the survival of the human race." She smiled and brushed her hair out of her face. "My name will not end the brutality that is going on below us. But I know, just as well as you do, what is coming. The Master's time is dwindling to a close. That _brilliant _Martha Jones with be the one to save them, not me, and not you, not really. So why waste breath on a name."

For such a small creature, The Doctor laughed heartily at her response. "Ha! And you say The Master is a politician! Don't deflect my question, _Lucy_. What is it that you want, obviously you're talking to me for a reason, and it's not just to call me an idiot and divert my questions."

"Boy, bet _you're_ fun at parties Medicine Man. I just came for a story is all. It gets a bit boring around here waiting for the world to fix itself up again. I'll make you a deal, you tell me a story, and I'll tell _you_ one."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "That's it? You want me to tell you a story? You know you're a confusing woman right."

The Thorn shrugged. "It's been said."

"Ok…wow…um anything specific you got in mind?"

The Thorn huffed. "Oh… I don't know…how about, tell me…have you ever fallen in love?"

The Doctor stiffened, now he knew there was definitely something going on here. "Yes." He replied curtly.

"Well of course you have, it would have been strange if you hadn't at your age. Tell me, what was she like?"

The Doctor frowned.

"Go on…I promise I won't tell anyone."

The Doctor's brows remained furrowed but he looked straight at The Thorn and said plainly, "She was the sun."

The Thorn's harsh shell fractured for a second. "Tell me," she murmured softly. "What was her name?" Her heart clenched in fear and hope and she forced her eyes to meet The Doctor's.

"Her name was Rose."

The Thorn's breath got stuck in her throat and she grabbed The Doctor small hand and brought it to her chest.

"Well this is my story."

The Doctor's eyes widened at the double heart beat under her skin.

"And I'm so, _so _sorry, but I can't let you keep this one."

And without pause, without time for The Doctor to gather himself, The Thorn pressed her fingertips to his temples and worked away the memory of their conversation from his mind.

* * *

When The Doctor opened his eyes again he found himself curious to how a chair had suddenly appeared beside him.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everybody. I'm going to change the summary for the story but it's still the exact same story, apart from a few edits in the first chapter. So for those not following The Thorn, it still has the same picture and name and entire story, I'm just changing the summery since it's kinda crap at the moment. So stay tuned.**


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